


Dance Your Way Into My Heart

by AzzleDazzle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Eating Disorders, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Reconciliation, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12834819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzzleDazzle/pseuds/AzzleDazzle
Summary: Fifteen year old Viktor is gearing up for what he hopes is his last year in the Junior ice skating circuit when Yakov and Lilia take on another boarder, eleven year old Katsuki Yuuri, a dancer from Japan who has come to train under Lilia. They grow up together, each a prodigy in their field. What starts as feelings of protectiveness may just evolve into more as the years pass...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Any translations are done by Google unless otherwise stated. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but also, please do not be an asshole about it.
> 
> Warning: the characters in this piece of fan fiction (please keep in mind that this is _Fan Fiction_ ) are flawed. They fuck up. They accidentally hurt each other. A few times. They're stupid and contradictory, just like real humans. They. Are. Flawed. It's what makes them interesting.
> 
> That being said, there are also inaccuracies about a few things. They are either intentional for the story or overlooked for story reasons. Once again, this is Fan FICTION. 
> 
> If this is not your cup of tea, please stop reading now. If it's not your cup of tea and you decide to read it anyway and decide that you don't like it and want to leave a harassing comment bitching, please stop. Step away from your computer/phone/tablet. Take a walk. Pet a critter. Eat a cupcake and a granola bar and drink a bunch of water. Think about the fact that on the other side of the screen is a living, breathing human being with actual human emotions. Think about how you would feel if you were brave enough to post a story and someone commented with the same mean comment you're about to say. If you still feel like I deserve it, then go ahead.

“This is the advanced class,” Viktor hears Madame Baranovskaya say, her English thickly accented, and that’s the only thing that makes him turn around; Lilia is not one to speak anything other than her mother language unless she absolutely has to. Beside her is a tiny slip of a boy, dark hair flopping over large brown eyes as he takes in the studio. He looks Asian, though Viktor wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where exactly, and not even old enough to travel on his own. Nine, maybe? Ten, at the most. He’s clutching a dance bag like his life depends on it.

“Viktor! Straighten your spine, your hold is sloppy,” Lilia snaps. His body moves without a second thought, following her command.

“Yes, Madame Baranovskaya,” he murmurs, batting his eyelashes at her coyly; she rolls her eyes. He’s never been able to fool her, not in the eight years she’s been training him.

“Yuuri,” she swaps back to English, “please follow me, I will show you to your new room so that you may settle in before night.” She leaves without a second glance at Viktor, which he’s used to, but as he settles back into his stretches, he catches the look on little Yuuri’s face, wide-eyed and innocent in a way that makes Viktor want to cuddle and protect him.

Nothing short of the apocalypse would get Viktor out of finishing his class (and even then, he wouldn’t put it past Lilia to tell him that just because it’s the end of the world didn’t mean he could get away with not practicing), so as soon as the teacher lets him go, he rushes to change out of his sweaty clothes and wipe himself down with a clean cloth before bundling up and walking the short distance from the studio to Lilia and Yakov’s apartment. For as long as he’s known them, they’ve never taken on another boarder like him. Is Yuuri a skater, too? Where is he from? Why did he come here?

These are things that fifteen year old Viktor Nikiforov _needs to know_.

The house is, unsurprisingly, quiet when he gets there. Lilia is either with the new kid or her and Yakov are out on a date, likely attempting to repair their crumbling relationship. (They think he can’t hear them fight.)

(Viktor hears everything.)

Frowning, Viktor makes his way to the kitchen, deciding that he’ll throw together something to eat real quick and then go searching for little Yuuri. He’s not the best cook in the world, but stroganoff is easy enough, and filling for a teenage athlete. After he’s finished cooking, about halfway through his lonely dinner, Viktor starts to wonder where Yuuri is, and why he hasn’t come around with the smell of food wafting through the house. He had left some in the pan and he decides then that he’ll take it with him when he goes looking for the boy.

The room next to Viktor’s has light coming out from under the door and when he knocks, Viktor can hear a thump and a shuffling noise.  
The door cracks, and a brown eye peeks out at him.

“Yes?” The voice attached to the eye is quiet and thickly accented. It’s cute, Viktor thinks, still high and unbroken.

“Hello, I am Viktor, Viktor Nikiforov,” he says, going slow over the unfamiliar English words, heavy with his own accent. He’s been learning it for years, but English is _hard_ , not to mention boring. He only uses it when traveling, anyway, there’s never been a pressing need to learn it quickly.

“ _Kon'nichiwa_ -” He starts to bow, but stops himself. “Uhm, hello, I am Katsuki Yuuri. No, Yuuri Katsuki, I am sorry,” he fumbles. He seems better at English than Viktor, despite the accent.

“You hungry? I make food.” Viktor shows him the plate, watching as Yuuri’s brow furrows and the door opens a bit more. “Is good, ah, Russian comfort? _Da_ , warm, filling?” Viktor rubs his stomach to make sure his point is made.

“ _Arigato_ , thank you, Viktor.” He looks uncertain and Viktor ignores the swoop in his stomach at the way Yuuri pronounces his name, _Vikutoru_. It’s cute. “Ah, can eat in the room?”

Viktor laughs, holding out the plate. “No, but I eat anyway.” He holds his finger up to his lips and winks. “I no tell, though, eat!”

Yuuri takes the plate with a bow and a small smile. “ _Arigato_.” When Viktor just stands there (like an idiot), grinning at him, Yuuri goes on, “Ah, you want come in?”

Positively beaming, Viktor steps in and follows Yuuri to the desk set up next to the window. There’s already a few books on it, books on English and Russian and something that looks like math, as well as a couple with unfamiliar letters that he guesses are Yuuri’s native language. “Where you from?” Viktor asks, reminded that he doesn’t know much more than ‘Asian’.

“Japan. You grow up here?”

“ _Da_ , live with Yakov, hm, seven years?”

“Yakov is Madame Baranovskaya, ah, husband, yes?”

“ _Da_.”

Yuuri looks contemplative for a moment. “ _Da_ is mean ‘yes’ in Russia?”

Viktor laughs, feeling the tips of his ears turn red and wishing his long hair wasn’t up so he could hide the blush. “Uh, yes, correct, is ‘yes’. Do you know much Russian?”

“No, not many.” Yuuri looks away, finally taking hold of the fork and, after fumbling for a moment, starts to eat. He makes a humming noise, so Viktor hopes he likes it.

“I teach you Russian, if you want?”

Yuuri pauses, looking up from the plate and staring at Viktor. His eyes are huge behind the frames of his glasses and he’s just so cute that Viktor wants to simultaneously smoosh his face and protect him from the world. “Really?”

“It fun! Easy than English,” Viktor says, gesturing to the books on the desk. Yuuri laughs with him, softly.

“English is… hard, but Russia could be fun. Uh, _da_?” Yuuri looks at him for confirmation that he said it right and Viktor nods happily. “I teach you Japanese, _hai_? Make fair.”

“That be very nice, thank you, Yuuri.”

“ _Arigato_.”

“ _Arigato_ ,” Viktor replies. It takes a couple of tries, the word clumsy with his accent, but finally Yuuri nods in satisfaction, making his stomach swoop again.

888

The next few days are busy, as Yuuri gets settled in and used to the new timezone, as well as his new schedule. Viktor learns as much as he can about his new roommate during that time, both of them using their limited English to communicate.

Yuuri is actually eleven, almost twelve, so Viktor was very wrong about his age. He’s a dancer, a very promising one sent to Lilia by an old friend in Japan who saw Yuuri’s potential and Lilia must agree, if she took him in. He’s never ice skated before, despite there being a rink in his hometown. He grew up by the ocean, and his family owns an inn with a hot springs, called an _onsen_. He’s been dancing since he was four. This is the first time he’s travelled outside of the country. He doesn’t say it, but Viktor can tell he’s extremely nervous.

They teach each other a few new words every night, and Viktor finds learning English is easier when he works with Yuuri, not to mention more fun. Yuuri is still quiet and shy, but Viktor is relentless.

When Yuuri comes to his first dance class, Viktor is shocked that it’s the advanced class with him, and everyone is blown away when they start and Yuuri _blossoms_. He’s the epitome of grace, gliding across the floor like he was made for nothing else. His body… he makes music with it, Viktor thinks.

He mentally shakes his head, it’s not safe to physically do when you’re dancing, because Yuuri is much too young for Viktor to be looking at his body in any other way but as a model who he should try to emulate. Lilia is always telling him that is presentation score could be higher if he just tapped into his emotions more. Maybe Yuuri could help him with that; this is Viktor’s last year skating in the Junior circuit and what he’s done so far won’t be enough when he moves to Senior’s. He’s already helping Viktor with his English, so he might be willing to.

Or he might be sick of Viktor always being around. Viktor squashes that thought before it can grow. Thoughts like that are dangerous and Viktor tries to ignore them whenever they pop up. He’s not always successful, but he also doesn’t know how to tell Yakov that sometimes his brain betrays him.

He shakes them off today, focusing on class and Yuuri’s movements. It really is a thing of beauty, so musical and it seems so easy and natural when Yuuri does it. Viktor is sure he looks like a baby giraffe, and not in the cute way. Lilia is teaching today and she frequently uses Yuuri as an example, much to his apparent embarrassment, but he never hesitates to demonstrate the moves. Everyone does their best to copy him, with various amounts of success, and by the end of class, everyone is covered in sweat. Lilia dismisses them, but after a quick word with her, Yuuri stays behind.

After Viktor showers, he peeks back into the class, ready to walk with Yuuri back to the house, but Yuuri is still at the barre, frowning as he makes miniscule corrections to his form. Lilia is still there, watching like a hawk and only rarely throwing out an opinion. Then Yuuri moves to the center of the studio and music begins to play and _that’s_ when Yuuri really blooms. Whatever Viktor thought before was so, so, _so_ very wrong, because here is Yuuri in his element, his movements like water over a smooth rock, a liquid grace as he flies across the floor, his eyes closed as his body matches the music perfectly.

“That was sloppy,” Lilia says after the music stops, jarring Viktor out of his trance. He listens as she goes through all the flaws in Yuuri’s dance, growing more and more irritated with each word, but Yuuri just takes it stoically with a, “Yes, Madame Baranovskaya.”

And then he starts again, long after most people would have collapsed from exhaustion. Viktor is both shocked and amazed. Yuuri has the stamina most skaters would die for, and he’s willing to bet that if Yuuri ever started ice skating, his presentation score would be through the roof. As soon as that thought crosses his mind, Viktor resolves to take Yuuri ice skating on their next off day.

Lilia spots him then, leveling him with a look before ignoring him and focusing on Yuuri. Viktor takes it as a sign to get the hell out of there before she decides he needs to join them for more dancing. As fun as it would be with Yuuri, Viktor is tired and he still has skate practice after he eats lunch, so he hurries away, his mind turning to the program Yakov is finally letting him choreograph. The Lilac Fairy is soft, gentle, flows like a river…

Viktor isn’t saying that his movements that day are based off of watching Yuuri move.

But he also wouldn’t have denied it if someone had asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reblog on tumblr if you so wish it.](http://azraeldoesnotdispute.tumblr.com/post/167915013831/dance-your-way-into-my-heart)
> 
>  
> 
> Nag at meeeeeeeeeee or I'll never update T-T Not sure on the chapter count just yet, but probably less than ten? We'll see what the boys think as the story goes along.
> 
> Quick note on their English speaking: Yuuri hasn't been studying it for very long, but he's working on it. Viktor is just a lazy shit.


	2. Year One: 2003-2004

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HELLO IT IS ME I AM NOT DEAD except on the inside. I'm terribly sorry for the delay! I decided to do a year per chapter and it took a long time to get it all out (and yet, I still feel like the ending is rushed...). I've set myself a goal for two weeks per chapter, buuuuuut I didn't take into account the holidays right now T-T
> 
>  **NOTE:** Yuuri is a dancer. Because of that, there are going to be issues surrounding his weight/talk of unhealthy eating habits throughout this fic, moreso than in the anime. If that makes you uncomfortable/triggers you, please let me know and I can start indicating where they are in the beginning notes. There's only a small bit here, but I asked idc_chan to read over it and they said it was done well. But please be safe and ask if you need markers!
> 
>  **ANOTHER NOTE:** There's underage drinking in this chapter and I can't promise there won't be more in other chapters, because kids will be kids, not matter which country they're in.
> 
> I think that's it, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit, because a lot of people, myself included, are confused about the boy's ages: In the beginning of this chapter, Viktor is 15 and Yuuri is 11. At the end of the chapter, Viktor is 16 and Yuuri is 12.

On one of their off days, about a month into Yuuri’s stay, Viktor finally makes good on his promise to take Yuuri ice skating. Yakov has paperwork to do at the rink and Viktor begs for him to take them along, citing a need to workout at the connected gym, but as soon as Yakov disappears, Viktor tugs Yuuri over to the skate rental and they get him fitted.

“I tie skates for you, _da_?” Viktor kneels down, taking them from Yuuri and begins to tie them properly. “You don’t do right, can injure yourself. I teach you the proper way.”

“ _S-Spasibo_ ,” Yuuri says, slowly enunciating the word.

Viktor beams up at him. “Good! You are learning well, Yuuri.”

“You have help a lot, Viktor.” They stand and Viktor holds Yuuri’s hands as he adjusts to the skates.

“Good now?”

When Yuuri nods, biting his lip as he stares down at his feet, Viktor leads him to where the barrier opens into the rink. Yuuri walks slowly, unsure, but Viktor lets him take his time, watches but doesn’t help. Yuuri needs to get used to walking in the skates or he’ll never be able to actually skate. At least, that’s the way Viktor sees it.

Viktor snaps off his skate guards and goes in first, then helps keep Yuuri steady as he does the same. Yuuri’s eyes are wide as Viktor takes both of his hands and leads in out onto the ice, skating backwards with ease.

“Viktor, I no think I can do this,” Yuuri says, glancing around nervously at the other skaters whizzing by with ease. Maybe Viktor should have waited until the rink was free...

“Hey.” Viktor skates in close and tilts Yuuri’s face up to his and staring into his eyes. “Yuura, you _can_.”

He watches as Yuuri sets his jaw and nods before he skates back so they’re not touching anywhere but their hands. Viktor gives instructions, never letting Yuuri go as he leads him slowly around the rink. Once Yuuri is steady enough on his feet, gaining confidence with every movement forward, Viktor lets go of one hand and moves to skate next to Yuuri, still with one hand clasped tightly in Yuuri’s gloved one. They did another couple of laps this way, with Viktor showing Yuuri how to stop at the end.

“You are ready?”

“Viktor, no-”

“You can do it!” Viktor lets Yuuri go and skates back slightly so he can’t just grab him again. “Remember how I show you.”

Yuuri looks as frozen as the ice they’re standing on, his eyes wide as he stares at his empty hand, still outstretched towards Viktor.

“Come, Yuuri, you skate to me.” Viktor smiles widely at Yuuri, trying to be encouraging.

To his credit, Yuuri does try, feet that are so graceful on the dance floor are slow and clumsy on the ice. “Viktor, please-” Before he can finish his sentence, another skater comes whizzing by, too close to Yuuri, who startles badly. Viktor lunges forward to catch him, but Yuuri falls backwards, skates sliding out from underneath him. His arms fling out to catch his fall and he lets out a cry as he lands badly on the left one.

“Yuuri! Are you okay?” Viktor falls to the ground next to him, reaching out only to have his hand shoved away.

“No touch me!” Yuuri says softly, voice full of tears as he cradles his hand to his chest.

“What is going on here!” Viktor winces as Yakov’s voice carries over the rink, suddenly silent as all the skaters stop.

“He fell-”

“What is he doing on the ice!” Lilia’s voice is sharper than blades and colder than ice and Viktor so does _not_ want to look up and see the anger on her face.

“I asked him to, I was helping him learn to skate-”

“It’s dangerous without an adult-”

“I’m old enough to help-”

“Obviously not, he fell and injured himself!”

Tears are tracking down Yuuri’s face as they shout in Russian over his head. “Please, take me off, no want to stay.” Yuuri seems to have lost his English as he tries to bite down the pain and this time with Viktor reaches out, Yuuri lets him help him up. Carefully, Viktor takes the to the opening and Lilia is on them before Yuuri can step out. She takes his hand and moves it carefully, watching Yuuri’s face as she does.

“It looks like a sprain. Come, we will go to the medics.”

Yuuri’s good hand shakes as he sits down on a bench and starts unlacing the skate. A horrible guilt wells up in Viktor’s throat and he kneels down once again at Yuuri’s feet, unlacing what he had previously laced up. “I’m really sorry, Yuuri.”

Yuuri doesn’t reply, letting out a sniff and swiping at the tears on his chubby cheeks. Once both skates are off, Lilia swoops in, ushering him off to the first aid office without a look back. Yakov spends several minutes yelling at him for being so careless, but nothing he says makes Viktor feel worse than the tears that had dripped down Yuuri’s cheeks and the look of betrayal in his eyes the one second he had looked at Viktor.

Yakov drives them back to the house, Yuuri’s wrist wrapped in a compression bandage, and Viktor feeling more miserable by the moment. Lilia is snapping replies back at Yakov, and Viktor can _feel_ the fight brewing between them. The moment the tensions pops is going to be horrible, and Viktor just hopes that he can protect Yuuri from it.

They go into the house silently and Yakov immediately goes into the kitchen and starts making dinner for them all. They all trade off regularly, and recently Yuuri has started helping, making them some traditional Japanese dishes that typically go over well. Tonight, though, Yuuri goes straight to his room and Viktor follows him like a little lost puppy.

“Yuuri-”

“Viktor, please, I want to be alone.”

“Yuuri, I’m so sorr-”

Yuuri finally stops just outside his door and glares up at Viktor. “You let me go. I say no, and you do anyway.”

“I thought you ready, I right there!”

“I hurt now, it not happen if you stayed.” Yuuri steps into his room, closing his door firmly in Viktor’s face as he stands there, stunned.

Yuuri had been hurt because of _him_. Yuuri had fallen and it was Viktor’s fault because he didn’t listen when Yuuri said he wasn’t ready. He had been ready early on, had grown up on the ice, and had treated Yuuri like he was more than the novice he actually was.

Stupid. Stupid and selfish, self-absorbed, just like Yakov is always telling him he is. So inside his own head that he doesn’t realize when he says or does something that hurts other people. He hates himself, a little, because he should have known better. He should have listened.

Viktor resolves to do better and listen more when people talk. He walks back down the stairs towards the kitchen, where Yuuri keeps a stash of genmenchia. A cup of something warm usually helps him when he needs cheering up.

“Viktor.”

Lilia does not look happy to see him as she stands in the doorway of the living room. “Yes, Lilia?” He doesn’t even try to look innocent.

“What were you thinking, taking him out on the ice? He could have been seriously hurt!”

“I was watching him! I would never hurt Yuuri!”

“What if he had fallen? I did not search all over for a premier danseur just for you to injure him before he has even begun. It was stupid of you to take him out on the ice, and it was stupid of you to let him go before he was steady on his feet. You are-”

“Lilia, I told you, I already spoke to Viktor about his mistake, you don’t need to yell at him-”

“Yes, I do! He needs to think of others more, not let his selfish little brain-”

Viktor inches closer and closer to the stairs as the yelling starts. When it’s obvious that it’s no longer about him, he turns and hurries away, going to his room. Before he opens his door, though, he notices Yuuri’s wide eyes peeking through a crack in his doorway.

“They fight about me?” His voice is so small, trembling as more tears gather.

“No, no, it my fault, I no should let you go before you ready.” Viktor stares at him for a moment before he opens his door and nods his head towards it an obvious invitation for Yuuri to come with him if he wants, without having to actually say the words. Yuuri glances down the stairs before he rushes across the hall. Viktor wraps an arm around his shoulder and he leads him inside, flicking on the light before closing the door. The sound of shouting is dampened slightly, and Viktor drowns it out further by turning on his television to some random Russian cartoon. Yuuri looks around his room curiously, the medals hanging on the wall next to pictures he’s taped there of competitions.

“You win lot?”

Viktor shrugs, suddenly shy about his achievements. “A few. This my last year in junior, will have to work hard to stay winning.”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything, looking over the pictures for several minutes, before he goes to sit in the desk chair, twisting it around so it faces the television and Viktor. “I still mad at you.”

“Yuuri, I really sorry. I was selfish and stupid. I should have listen to you.”

Yuuri looks down, picking at the bandage wrapped around his wrist. “They say can take off in three days. Need ice on it, too.”

Viktor glances at the closed door, wondering if he’s brave enough to go down and get some ice. There’s a good chance he’ll be dragged back into the fight if he does, but if Yuuri needs ice…

“You tell me what is going on?” Viktor’s head flicks back to Yuuri swiftly, and Yuuri gestures to the show still playing. “Cartoon, you help me with translate?”

Viktor sets on the end of his bed and pats the spot next to him and Yuuri moves there. They sit together for a long time, Viktor quietly translating what’s going on on the screen, until Yuuri’s head drops suddenly on Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor looks down to see what Yuuri needs but his eyes are closed and his chest is slowly rising and falling. A smile works its way to Viktor’s lips without much difficulty as he adjusts Yuuri so that he’s lying safely on the bed, a blanket over his body. Viktor turns off the tv and makes his way across the quiet hall to Yuuri’s room, curling under his blankets and dropping off into sleep.

888

Skating season begins ramping up drastically after the unfortunate incident at the rink. Things are still frosty at the house and Viktor is honestly happy to be out of it whenever he can. Most of his days are spent at the rink skating or conditioning at the gym, or he’s at the studio with Yuuri. Well, not _with_ Yuuri, but sharing the class with him and sometimes Lilia will let him stay and watch their private lessons if Yuuri says it’s okay too. Lilia has told him privately that she hopes that some of Yuuri’s musicality will rub off on Viktor. Either way, those are Viktor’s favorite days, because those are the times Yuuri is the most alive.

Viktor maintains that Yuuri looks like he’s making music when he dances, but Yuuri always waves those thoughts away whenever Viktor tells him that. “I not that good.”

Viktor rolls his eyes, but it’s pointless to argue. Instead, he strives to emulate Yuuri, both on the ice and off, incorporating moves into his routine. It’s coming along nicely, he thinks, and Yakov has begrudgingly admitted that Viktor has been doing better with his presentation since Yuuri joined the household.

Night time, after all the practice is done, is dedicated to learning. They both have tutors that they see during the day, but homework is something neither escape and they’re often found in each others room, bent over books as they help each other. Yuuri is a math wizard, to the point that he understands Viktor’s homework better than Viktor does, and he has an aptitude for language that has him swiftly picking up on Russian words and phrases almost faster than Viktor can teach him, and Viktor strives to do the same with his Japanese, though Yuuri tends to giggle about his accent. He’s definitely better at learning English than Viktor is, though. In return, Viktor uses his bottomless knowledge of history and science to help Yuuri when he struggles to remember dates or needs help learning the elements of the periodic table. He’s only ever used it for trivia before, but this is just as rewarding as beating the other team during trivia with his rinkmates.

It doesn’t take long before Viktor is teaching Yuuri Cyrillic as well. He’s never gone anywhere without one of the Russia’s with him before, but, “It is good for you to know, for the future.”

Yuuri frowns, looking down at the paper where Viktor has written the alphabet. “I do not know how much long I am here, though.”

“Why you say that, Yuura?”

“I am not doing well in class, I think Madame Baranovskaya regret taking me on.” Tears gather in Yuuri’s eyes as he sets down his pencil and wraps his arms around himself.

“Yuuri, no! Lilia is just hard master, you doing great! She tell me all the time you better than me!”

Yuuri frowns, shaking his head. “I mess up all the time, I not that good.”

“You best in class! And Lilia never do private lesson, you her favorite, I can tell.”

“Viktor-”

“ _Nyet_ , will not hear no more words, you perfect, Yuura.” Viktor leans close, offering a hug. He’s come to understand the cultural differences between them, and how Yuuri is skittish to touch. Yuuri and he had had a long conversation over it the first time Viktor tried to hug him after a bad day, and Viktor has tried his hardest to keep that in mind and only offer a hug, letting Yuuri decide if he wants it or not.

He does this time, tilting sideways into Viktor’s chest, though he doesn’t unwrap his arms from around himself. They stay like that for a few minutes, until Yuuri is reduced down to sniffles and he slowly uncurls from himself. “You call me Yuura because diminutive, _hai_?”

“ _Da_ , is for the affection I feel for you. Is okay?”

Yuuri stays quiet for a long moment before he wiggles out of Viktor’s grasp and looks up at him. “In Japan, we have something similar.”

“With honorifics?” Yuuri has been teaching him about them lately.

“ _Hai_ , but, hm, shorter? I call you Vicchan; like the diminutive, it is nickname. This is okay?”

Viktor’s face feels like it’s going to crack with how wide his smile is. “ _Hai_ , would make very happy. _Arigato_ , Yuura.”

“You welcome, Vicchan.”

888

“Yuura!” Viktor barrels into Yuuri’s room one night with barely a knock on the door. He can tell his face is flushed, but he’s so excited that he doesn’t care if he looks a bit manic.

“Vicchan, what is wrong?” Yuuri asks, eyes wide in alarm.

“Nothing, everything great! I ask Yakov and Lilia, they say you can come with to my next competition, the Rostelecom Cup! Is in Russia, very easy to go to.”

Viktor has been training hard the past few months, gearing up to go to the Junior Grand Prix Finals, and he’s been begging Yakov and Lilia to let Yuuri come with him every since he got his assignments. He easily won gold at Skate America and he’s feeling confident about this one, but he wants Yuuri there, too. They leave for Moscow in three days and Lilia finally caved and agreed that it might be good for Yuuri to see up close and personal the differences in how figure skaters move.

“You come, _da_?”

“But my training-”

“Lilia say you can use gym, and hotel has weight room. You still work out, she say will be fine.”

Yuuri bites his lip, glancing off to the side while he thinks, and while Viktor shifts anxiously from one foot to the other. “Okay, I will go, cheer you on. Last year, you need to win big!”

Viktor laughs swooping in to ruffle Yuuri’s hair. “With you there, how can I not?”

And so, everything packed and sent off to be loaded in the plane, Viktor settles in comfortably between Yuuri and Yakov, fiddling with his music player as they wait for takeoff.

“Vicchan, you should work on English,” Yuuri says, his tone disapproving. He’s brought a couple of books, as well as the English tome that earn Viktor’s look of disgust.

“Why need English, your Russian is good now.”

“Vitya, you need English for international competitions, we’ve been over this,” Yakov says with a long-suffering sigh.

“English is good to know, spoken more places than Russian,” Yuuri adds from his other side. Viktor pouts, earning a flick to the ear from Yakov. “Come, I help you.”

They study until the plane gets ready for take off and as soon as they’re allowed to, Yuuri pulls out the book again, steadfastly working his way through it and dragging Viktor along. Yakov helps where he can, having learned English when he was younger and competing, but mostly it’s Yuuri, determined to learn it, and determined to make Viktor learn as well.

They land in Moscow soon enough and Yakov hustle them to the hotel room before Viktor turns around and drags Yuuri out to sightsee. “Moscow is one of my favorite places,” Viktor tells him. “Lot of history here, the buildings beautiful.” They don’t get far, though, before Viktor realizes that they should both eat something, their bodies used to the high-calorie diet of professional athletes. He finds a restaurant he’s been to before on previous visits and plys Yuuri with good Russian foods.

“Eat, you too skinny!” Viktor teases. He stops when Yuuri flinches, setting down his fork. “Yuura, what I say wrong?”

“Nothing, it is nothing, I am fine.” But he doesn’t look at Viktor and he doesn’t pick his fork back up.

“Yuuuuriiii,” Viktor says, pitching his voice to begging, which works better with Yuuri than it does Yakov or Lilia. “Talk to me, Yuura, _pozhaluysta_?”

“I get fat easy, Madame Baranovskaya say _prima ballerina must not be so big_.”

“Lilia say you fat?” Viktor asks, voice hard. That gets Yuuri to look up, his eye wide as he waves his hands frantically in front of him.

“No, no, not me! One of older boys, um, Alexei? He eats too much lunch, not able jump as high. I get fat easy, do not want to upset Madame Baranovskaya with not able to jump as well.”

So Lilia is inadvertently giving Yuuri weight issues. Viktor has seen it before, growing up in a ballet studio as much as an ice rink. Too many girls and boys with skeletal face, their ribs poking through their skin tight clothes. Falling because they haven’t the energy to keep going, starving their bodies. Lilia knows better, was probably more annoyed with something else and took it out on Alexei, and poor Yuuri thought he should follow that rule as well.

“Yuura, yes, most ballerina must be small, but you need eat or you get sick,” Viktor tells him gently. “I seen before, it hurt you body. You must eat so can grow strong; you still growing, is bad for you body if you no eat.”

Yuuri frowns down at his food, considering Viktor’s words. “But what if I get too big?”

“Then I help you to get back small, in _healthy_ way. Not eat is not healthy way.” Yuuri looks at him with such admiration in his eyes that Viktor can’t breathe for a moment. He’s been at the top of the podium for so long, had so many fans that looked up to him, has garnered looks from everyone from movie stars to officials, but nothing compares to Yuuri’s face right then. Viktor resolves to make sure that Yuuri never has a reason to look at him in other way.

888

The next few days are full of practice and sightseeing, and before he knows it, it’s the morning of the short program. Viktor keeps his jacket zipped over his costume; not even Yuuri had seen it yet and he’s very excited for the big reveal. Yuuri falls into step beside him as they walk out into the rink when it’s almost Viktor’s turn, his head swiveling around as he takes in the stands and crowds.

“It is so loud,” he murmurs, so quietly that Viktor almost doesn’t hear him over the screaming of the masses.

“Vitya is very popular, especially here in Russia,” Yakov grunts from Viktor’s other side. “It’s always like this when he comes out.”

Yuuri looks at Viktor, frowning. “You are superhero to them?”

Viktor shrugs; Yakov is right in that it’s always been like this, every since his third year when he kept winning medals. He’s become numb to the whole thing, even as he smiles and waves. “They like that I win lot of medals.”

Yuuri slides his hand into Viktor’s when they stop moving. “You still just Vicchan to me.”

Viktor smiles down at him and gives his hand a squeeze and continues holding it until it’s time for him to step on the ice, tugging off his skate guards and passing them off to Yakov. Lastly, he unzips his jacket and the crowd goes absoultely wild, the screams bouncing off the walls and barrelling into Viktor’s ear.

“Good luck, Vicchan, you do great,” Yuuri tells him seriously, pulling Viktor back down to the present.

“I will, for you, Yuura.”

Viktor slides away, making a few laps around the rink to warm up his muscles and waves to the crowds, even blowing a few kisses as he circles around to his starting point. He takes a deep breath and the music starts and Viktor _floats_. In his mind, he pictures the way Yuuri moves, tries to emulate the grace and musicality, strives to have the fluid movements that Yuuri does so easily. He doubts he’ll ever have such effortlessness, but he tries anyway, The Lilac Fairy filling his head as he skates and jumps and spins.

And then it’s over, his final pose held for a few minutes before he lets it go, breathing heavily as he makes his way off. Yakov hands him his skate guards and jacket and they head to the Kiss and Cry with Yuuri, who’s staring at Viktor like… like everyone else does. Viktor’s heart drops into his stomach; he doesn’t want another fan, he doesn’t want Yuuri to look at him and see anything other than Viktor.

“Vicchan, that was so amazing! You dance much better on ice than in class,” he teases.

Viktor gasps, mock affronted, hand clutching his chest. “Yakov, I not go on, I wounded,” he moans, slowing down. “Yuura, you kill me, I never go on! I die here!”

Yuuri giggles, pushing him slightly while Yakov rolls his eyes. He thinks Viktor doesn’t see the slight smile on his face when he turns around, but Viktor so totally does. “You silly, Vicchan.”

“I _hurt_ , Yuura! You make me sad, I never live!”

“Viktor, if you don’t get into the Kiss and Cry, you will not live,” Yakov says, exasperated.

“Come, Yuuri, you sit with us!” Viktor ignores protests from both his coach and friend and pulls Yuuri down on his left side, Yakov to the right, already giving Viktor a rundown of all the flaws in his program. Cameras are constantly snapping and they broadcast his face on the jumbotron above the rink. Viktor glances at it, cooing over Yuuri’s pink cheeks before the scores come in.

“Viktor Nikiforov has broken the Junior World Record for a short program,” the announcer practically screams into his microphone, and the crowd goes even wilder, something Viktor didn’t think was possible. Yakov looks pleased and Yuuri is hugging Viktor tightly.

“ _Pozdravlyayu_ , Vicchan! I so proud!” Yuuri yells over the noise.

“No, is all you,” Viktor says. “I try be like you, dance as pretty as you. You my, uh,” he turns to Yakov for a moment before turning back to Yuuri. “You are my muse, Yuura, it is all you.”

Viktor didn’t think Yuuri’s face could get any redder, but he’s proven wrong at that moment. It’s so cute that Viktor tugs him closer, hugging him tightly.

“Vicchan, too tight!” Yuuri gasps, taking a deep breath when Viktor releases him. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” And that settles that, at least for the moment. There’s interviews to do before he can move on to the changing rooms, showering up quickly while Yakov and Yuuri wait for him. Yakov takes them out for dinner in celebration and Yuuri spends the entire time talking about all of his favorite parts of the program. He even gives Viktor a few pointers on ways he can improve, while Yakov looks shocked and approving.

The next day is an off day for him and he spends the morning practicing, while taking Yuuri out to see Moscow in the evening. It’s fun, mellow, and Viktor feels excitement thrumming in his veins when the final day of the competition starts. He has a nice lead over the next highest skater and he’s confident that, with Yuuri there cheering for him, he can soar to the greatest levels.

And so it’s only a little surprising to him that he shatters the long program _and_ the combined score world records. The crowd goes insane at the announcement and Viktor blows kisses to everyone, body sore after his performance, but he’s sure it will go down as one of the greatest ones of his career. Yuuri is beaming proudly next to him, waving off any attempts by Viktor to proclaim that he’s his muse, and he manages to blend into the surroundings after the medal ceremony when there are tons of cameras aimed at Viktor’s face. Viktor tries to act demure during the whole interview process, but there’s only so many times he can be told he’s going to become a figure skating legend before it wears down that particular mask.

“That’s enough questions,” Yakov finally says, steering Viktor away, towards where Yuuri stands off to the side. “I swear, they’re going to give you such an ego,” he grumbles.

“By the way, happy birthday, Yuuri!” Viktor says, ignoring Yakov.

“Oh, _arigato_ , thank you, Vicchan. Congratulations on you gold medal!” Yuuri smiles up at him and Viktor impulsively pulls the thing off his neck and drapes it over Yuuri’s head. “Vicchan!”

“You gold medal winner today. Best Birthday Boy Ever,” Viktor declares. Yuuri giggles, trying to take off the medal, but Viktor is insistant and doesn’t let him. “Birthday boy is deserve of gold.”

“Just keep it on so we can leave,” Yakov says, fondly exasperated.

“Yes, good, dinner!”

Yakov takes them out again and even allows Viktor a glass of wine in celebration of his world records. Viktor gives Yuuri a copy of his favorite book in both Russian and English, telling him that he can use it to study the languages, even though everyone knows he’s the better of the two with English. They talk and laugh and Yuuri is pleasantly full and sleepy by the time they finally get up to leave. He falls sideways into Viktor on the cab, eyes closed against the street lights as they pass by them.

“Yuura, you sleep?”

Yuuri hums, shaking his head. “I am fine.”

There’s a pause before Viktor says, “You can if you want.”

The eye that’s not currently buried in Viktor’s jacket peeks up at him. “Thank you for good birthday, Vicchan.”

“You welcome, Yuura. Go to sleep.”

888

The next couple of weeks are full of practice, practice, and more practice. The Junior Grand Prix Final is held in Slovenia this year, right before Viktor’s birthday, and coincidentally, Russian Nationals. Viktor wants to sweep the board the final year of his junior skating career and he can’t slack off now if he’s to accomplish that. So instead, he works hard, day and night. Yakov still hasn’t let him do quads, since his body is still growing, but when he goes to the rink early in the mornings or late into the night, when no one is around, he tries them anyway. Over and over, the sound of his blades the only music he needs, the feeling of weightlessness as he jumps high in the air.

One morning, just as he’s getting ready to sneak out of the house, Yuuri pokes his head out of his room. “Vicchan?” he asks around a yawn. “Where you going?”

“To rink to practice.”

“So early?”

“ _D_ _a_ , is very quiet without the other skaters.” Yuuri nods wisely, as this makes sense, and shuffles to their shared bathroom without another word. The next morning, though, Yuuri is up and waiting when Viktor gets ready to leave.

“I go with you,” he informs Viktor. “I want see, hm, routine again? Video is not as good.”

Viktor laughs, agreeing as Yuuri follows him outside of the house. “I not normally practice all routine, mostly jumps, but I can for you?”

“You work on your dance, that need more help than jump.” The scolding tone Yuuri uses when he says that makes Viktor laugh. The morning quiet is only broken by their huffing breaths as they walk the mile to the rink, where Viktor lets them in with a key. He points out where the coffee pot is if Yuuri wants to get something to drink to warm him up and heads into the locker room to change into his practice clothes. Yuuri is standing next to the rink entrance when Viktor comes out, still bundled in his coat and hold a steaming mug of what Viktor thinks might be hot chocolate. He ties up his hair while Yuuri watches, eyes contemplative.

“What is it, Yuura?”

“I want braid hair for you one time,” Yuuri says, then flushes and looks down at his cup.

“Really? You know how?”

“ _Hai_ , my neechan- uhm, sister? Sister Mari has long hair, she teach me. I do for you?” He looks back up, hopeful.

“Yuuri, that so much fun! _Da_ , tonight, you braid my hair, it fun! Lilia used to do all times.” He doesn’t mention that Lilia stopped after her and Yakov started fighting and Lilia went off to get Yuuri; he knows his friend well enough by now to know that he would think it was all his fault.

Yuuri takes his skate guards when he steps onto the ice and Viktor spends several minutes just going through the motions of warming up on the ice before he actually does anything. He starts with a few doubles, a combination, some spins. Anything to get his muscles ready. Then he’s ready.

He goes to his starting point and takes off, waiting for the right moment and-

He doesn’t get enough rotations and hits the ice, rolling a little.

“Vicchan, you okay?” Yuuri calls and Viktor sits up after a moment.

“I fine Yuuri! Not enough, hm, high?” Vitor frowns, mumbling to himself for a moment, but the English words won’t come and he doubts Yuuri would know the Russian counterpart. “I try again, no worry!”

He gets up, skating lazily around the rink and sticking his tongue out playfully at Yuuri when he passes him. He lines up the jump again and takes off across the rink-

This time-

Yes, he makes the full rotations!

His elation is cut short when he falls, but he’s sure he can do it now. He has the feeling down, he’s sure that he’ll stick the landing next time.

“You got it, Vicchan?” Viktor looks at Yuuri with a wide grin and nods; Yuuri lets out a cheer.

“No falling next time, I sure!”

“You can do it, Vicchan!”

He’s sure it’s Yuuri’s words that carrying him through the next time when Viktor cleanly lands a quad flip.

Yakov, however, is not pleased to the flip when Viktor adds it in the middle of his performance at the Junior Grand Prix Final a few weeks later and promptly lectures him even as his score comes in, only slightly lower than his record breaking skate in Moscow. Viktor doesn’t care, flying high on adrenaline as he waves to the enthusiastic crowd. He wins that one too, of course, it’s rare when he doesn’t, but landing the quad flip in competition isn’t enough to keep the feelings of isolation at bay. The medal hangs heavy around his neck and he wonders idly if Yuuri would accept this one as well. Viktor had refused to take back his other one, the one from his birthday, so it now hangs in Yuuri’s room above his desk.

Predictably, Yuuri does not accept Viktor’s medal, but he does hug him when they fly back in. “You do so good, Vicchan, your dance very good!”

“You inspire me, Yuura! Your footwork much better than me,” Viktor says with a laugh, ruffling his hair.

“You would do well to watch Yuuri more closely in class, Viktor,” Lilia says. “Your step sequences in the second half were sloppy.”

“I have already lectured him, Lilia, you don’t have to do it too.” Yakov pushes past where Viktor and Yuuri are blocking the entranceway and shuts the front door. Lilia’s lips draw together in a thin line, but she doesn’t say anything else. “Go put your stuff way, Vitya, and get that boy away from the door, he looks freezing.”

“Come, _solnyshko_ , show me what you learn while I gone!” Viktor grabs two of his bags, but Yuuri tugs at one.

“I help, Vicchan,” he scolds when Viktor doesn’t let go of it.

“No, is too heavy!”

“I can do it!” Yuuri starts walking, tugging the bag as he goes, and Viktor is forced to let go or be dragged along. “I carry at onsen all the time.”

“I am not guest, though.”

Yuuri shrugs awkwardly as they start walking up the steps, the bag obviously too big and heavy for him, but Viktor doesn’t try to take it back. He simply follows Yuuri, stepping ahead of him to open the door to his room and flick on the light so they can see.

“Throw bag on chair,” Viktor says, tilting his chin to indicate. “Come see, I got you, hm, what is English word? Gifts? From other country?”

Yuuri shrugs as he sits next to Viktor on his bed. “Not sure, but I look up later for us.”

Viktor finally digs out what he was looking for and hands Yuuri a small box. “This from Bled, where competition was. There is story behind it,” he adds when Yuuri opens it to reveal a small golden bell. “A woman lost her, ah, husband? He die, so she made bell for church, but it fall in water, so she run away and become nun. The Pope, he hear her good deeds and ask for bell for church. If ring three times, you wish come true!”

Yuuri stares at the bell in amazement, nestled safely in the box. He runs a finger down it, feeling the ridges and smooth texture of the bell. “It is very pretty, thank you, Vicchan.”

“Not all, look, special chocolate!” He hands Yuuri another box, this time with several chocolates shaped like dragons inside. “They all different flavors, too! And here, also a picture, to put with ones from Japan.” He pulls out a postcard and Yuuri takes it with wide eyes. It’s very pretty and Yuuri can’t wait to put it up next to the ones Mari sends him from Japan sometimes.

“Vicchan, thank you, they very pretty.” Yuuri sets everything aside and leans over to give Viktor a stiff hug. Viktor hugs him back, giving him a tight squeeze before he lets him go. Yuuri still isn’t used to physical affection, so Viktor does his best to hold back from overwhelming him.

“Oh, Vicchan, I find picture of new braid to try!” Yuuri tells him excitedly. He runs to his room to grab the print off and Viktor honestly can’t wait to try it out. Maybe for Nationals in a couple of weeks. “We wait until tomorrow, though, you very tired.”

“No, you can-”

“Vicchan.” Yuuri has his serious face on. “Go to bed.”

Viktor laughs lightly, nodding as he tosses the bags to the floor. Before his backpack goes down too, Viktor pulls out his brush and offers it to Yuuri. “You brush before bed?”

Yuuri nods happily, settling behind Viktor, who can feel all the tense knots in his shoulders loosen as Yuuri runs the brush through his hair over and over and over, a soothing rhythm that has Viktor dozing where he sits. He feels Yuuri tugging the tie off his wrist after he makes a loose braid down Viktor’s back, tying it off and sliding off the bed. He guides Viktor until he’s laying, then drapes the quilt at the end of the bed over him.

“Goodnight, Vicchan.”

Viktor is sure he replies, but his eyes are heavy and he’s so warm…

888

Yuuri tells Viktor that they don’t really celebrate Christmas in Japan the way Western countries usually do, so Viktor doesn’t feel too bad about having to be away, but he does wish that Yuuri could be with him so they could celebrate his birthday together. Lilia had told Viktor no when he asked if Yuuri could tag along, as there was a recital Yuuri was going to take place in during that time and he couldn’t be away. Yuuri had promised to make something special after Viktor got back, though, so he took small comfort in that.

He sweeps the board at Junior Nationals, of course. He watches the Senior division when it’s their turn, eyes hungry to pick up on anything that might help him when he moves up next season. He knows he’s good, the ice is like an extension of him sometimes, but they’re _better_ and while that’s not a bad thing, it will be nice to be challenged, Viktor isn’t sure how he’s going to feel when his winning streak comes to an end.

Yakov lets him run off after the banquet and he talks with one of the seniors who was still in the junior division when Vitkor started, Yevgeny. They catch up for awhile until one of the other juniors mentions it’s Viktor’s birthday. Yev insists they go out to a club to celebrate, one where the bouncers look the other way as world famous skaters flood in, where drink after drink is pressed into Viktor’s hand, where the music is loud and pulsing and Viktor can lose himself to the beat of it. He dances with everyone and no one, the room his partner as numbness fills his limbs.

Yev and one of the female skaters, Katya, manage to drag him out at something o’clock in the morning. He laughs, stumbling down the street and into the cab, pressing heavily against Katya, who kisses the top of his head. “You’re very pretty,” he slurs at her.

“You’re very handsome, too, Viktor.” She’s laughing and Viktor frowns, wondering if she’s laughing at him.

“Where are we going?” He yawns; now that he’s not moving, sleepiness is setting in, lulled by the rocking of the cab.

“Oh, man, Feltsman is going to kill us,” Yev whispers.

“We’ll just drop him off and get out of there,” Katya whispers back over his head.

“Drop who off?”

“We’re taking you back to the hotel, Viktor, okay?” Katya’s hand is running through his hair and it’s so soothing that the world turns black as Viktor falls asleep.

He wishes he had better sense the next morning when Yakov’s booming voice is drilling holes in his head as he scolds Viktor for drinking without adult supervision. He wakes Viktor up so early that Viktor is pretty sure he’s still drunk, forcing him to get his bags packed and not letting up on the yelling as they hail a cab and ride to the airport and go through security and check in and the entire two hour flight back to St. Petersburg. He has the cab driver there take them directly to the rink, where he makes Viktor do alternating power pulls and suicides for an hour. Viktor throws up in the locker room after and resolves to _never_ be around Yakov after drinking, _ever again_. He knows that Yakov is just mad because he could have been hurt or worse, that’s why he allows Viktor to drink a little while he’s with him, but his hangover is not so forgiving.

“Vicchan, you look bad,” Yuuri says when they finally go to the house. He’s waiting at the front door, ready to help lug Viktor’s bag up to room.

“Vitya, drink some water and get some rest,” Yakov grunts at him, hanging his hat on a hook and taking his own bags down the hall to his study-turned-bedroom.

“Here, let me help.” Yuuri grabs one of his bags and Viktor doesn’t even argue this time, just droops exhaustively as they go up to his room. “I make miso for you, be right back.”

Viktor sits on the bed, running a hand through his damp hair. The wobbly-drunk feeling has long since faded and all that’s left is a sour stomach and a pounding head. He grapples for a moment before finally retrieving his water bottle and finishes off what’s in there by the time Yuuri comes back, carefully holding a bowl of soup.

“Eat,” he insists, pressing the bowl into Viktor’s hands and grabbing a bottle of water out of his back pocket. “You are sick?

“Ah, no, did an adult thing, made me no feel good.” Viktor doesn’t want to tell Yuuri what he did, because he wants Yuuri to look up to him and how is he supposed to set an example if he’s running around drinking? “How was show? You do okay?”

Yuuri looks down at his hands. “I fall yesterday, ah, twist ankle? It not hurt today, but I not allowed dance again. Madame Baranovskaya say maybe tomorrow.”

“You have take time for healing, Yuura, or it be bad later.”

“That what Madame Baranovskaya say, too. I will be okay. She say I do okay the other days, though!”

“That is good! Lilia is strict, not give out happiness often.”

They talk about everything that has happened in the past few days as Viktor slowly eats his soup and then he lays down once Yuuri takes the bowl away from him. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he wakes up some time in the middle of the night with a blanket draped over him. He stumbles to the bathroom, eyes bleary with sleep, and when he comes back, he realizes that there’s a little box on the nightstand next to his bed. He picks it up and reads the note on top, in Yuuri’s carefully written Cyrillic, wishing him a happy birthday. Inside the box is a piece of colorful paper that’s folded into the shape of a small crane. Under that was a rectangular bit of fabric that had an arrow design on it. Another note was folded beneath that and Viktor tipped it out into his palm.

_Vicchan,_

_I know it is past your birthday, but because we were not together, I still wanted to give you something. The first thing is a origami crane that I make for you. It is Japanese legend that if someone folds 1,000 cranes, they will be granted a wish, but I hope it brings you happiness. The other is a omamori, Japanese good luck charm know as katsumori, success talisman. I hope it bring you lots of gold in the future! I will also make you traditional Japanese winning food for dinner tomorrow._

_Thank you for being my friend._

_勝生 勇利 Katsuki Yuuri_

888

“So what happen in Japan on New Year’s Eve?” Viktor asks as they settle on the roof of the house, blankets piled under and on them and a little space heater next to Yuuri, the plug trailing back through the window they crawled out here on.

Yuuri hums, burrowing deeper in the blanket nest. “First is _osoji_ , big cleaning of the house to start a new year. All family comes and helps, and we prepare for _osechi ryori_ , traditional Japanese food eat together New Year’s Day. We eat soba noodles for dinner, and drink _otoso_ , a type of alcohol? Tradition to drive away evil spirits. And when it midnight, bells ring _Joya no Kane_. Buddhist monks ring them many times, one hundred eight, for each of the earthly desires and feelings human are plagued with. Each strike to drive way _Bonnou_ , start new year fresh.”

“That sound so cool!”

“What else happen here for New Years?”

“Well, we already put up _Novogodnaya Yolka_ and decorate it, so tonight, _Ded Moroz_ and _Snegurochka_ bring gifts to all children. Some people go out concert, or do like we, sit to watch firework. We eat dinner late,” Viktor digs in the bag he brought with them and pulls out a covered bowl, “Russian Olivier salad and I bring sparkle wine for us to share. Yakov and Lilia say it okay to have a little,” he adds when Yuuri frowns. “Is tradition, like your, ah,” he attempts to repeat the word that Yuuri said earlier and completely butchers it, which sends Yuuri into fits of giggles.

“ _Otoso_ , Vicchan!” The next few minutes are spent teaching Viktor how to pronounce the word, until suddenly, there’s a distant _crack!_ and the night sky is filled with light. Yuuri gasps, staring reverently at the firecrackers. “I love _hanabi_ , no matter how old I get,” Yuuri tells him. “In Japan, we have festival for them in summer, very beautiful.”

They eat the salad, freezing together on the rooftop, and at midnight, they sip sparkling wine together as the Russian national anthem filters through the cracked window near them and from the houses around them. Viktor teaches Yuuri the traditional Russian saying, _S Novim Godom_ , to ring in the new year. He wraps his arms around Yuuri and they stay up there just long enough after for Yuuri’s breathing to begin slowly; that’s when Viktor rouses him and they head back inside for the night.

The next morning, Viktor is awoken by a sharp _yip_ , and something soft and fluffy and _wet_ dragging all over his face. He sputters, flailing a bit until there’s a yelp from his unbidden bedmate and he finally gets a good look at the small fluffy- “Oh my god, a puppy!”

Yakov laughs from the doorway. “Looks like _Ded Moroz_ brought you a dog this year, finally.”

Viktor barely hears him, making kissy faces at the dog, who yips and bounces and attacks Viktor’s face with wet doggy kisses. “The dog is for me?”

“I don’t see anyone else in here,” Yakov snarks, but he’s still smiling. “You’ve been asking for awhile, I thought it was time. But,” he points a stern finger at Viktor, “you and you alone will be responsible for taking care of her. Do not expect me or Lilia or Yuuri to do it for you. Yuuri already will be taking care of his own.”

“Wait, what-”

“Vicchan, Lilia-sensei give me puppy!” Yuuri says, rushing past Yakov with a bundle of brown fluff in his arms. He stops, turning and bowing politely to Yakov. “ _S Novim Godom_ , Yakov-san.”

“ _S Novim Godom_ , Yuuri.” Lilia joins him at the door as Yuuri finishes his mad dash to Viktor’s bed, awkwardly clambering on. He’s immediately accosted by Viktor’s dog, who is going crazy over the new person. Their dogs seem like they’re familiar with each other, giving each other a cursory sniff before they switch owners.

“What you name yours, Vicchan?” Yuuri asks, petting the other dog, who looks like a slightly bigger version of Yuuri’s puppy.

“I only woke up just now, I have no thought yet. You?”

Yuuri pauses petting both dogs, which are both attempting to sit in his tiny lap at the same time. “Vicchan.” Yuuri smirks.

“What?”

“No, I name puppy Vicchan.”

“I Vicchan!” Viktor looks affronted for all of two seconds.

“Now you both Vicchan.” He picks up his dog and holds it up to his face, cooing at it, “You good Vicchan, yes?” before descending into what is probably Japanese baby talk as Viktor frowns at his own dog.

“You don’t look like a Yuura,” he tells her in Russian sadly.

“Vicchan, I understand you,” Yuuri says to him in imperfect Russian.

“I should still call Yuura,” Viktor replies in equally imperfect Japanese. Yuuri just laughs, burying his face in little Vicchan’s fur. Viktor thinks as he cards his fingers through his own puppy’s light brown fur. “Makkachin,” he says finally. His puppy lets out a bark and he scritches the top of her head.

“Makkachin?” Yuuri frowns, his head tilting adorably to the side.

“I like the way it sound.”

“Means coffee mocha, _hai_?”

Viktor snorts when he realizes it’s true. “I like the way it sound, though, but _da_ , is meaning caffe mocha in Russian. It fit, she is very brown.”

The dogs follow them around all day as they eat and go outside to play in the snow, Lilia and Yakov both telling the to be careful with the ice. The day is full of snow and hot tea to warm them up; Yuuri’s parent frequently mail him packages that include his favorite, genmaicha, and Viktor continues to try to sway him to the Russian way of drinking tea. Yuuri remains unconvinced, but he still offers Viktor some of the Japanese candies that were included in the last box. It’s perfect, and when Viktor goes to sleep that night, Makkachin curled up against his back, he quietly makes a New Years wish that there will be many more days like this.

888

After old New Years, Viktor goes back to skating, working hard on his new programs, and then he has new sponsor obligations to start fulfilling. It always peters out right before Christmas before hitting hard and fast just before Valentine’s Day. There’s even a magazine that wants to do a story about him and Makka, who is pleased as punch and sits very pretty for the photos. Viktor manages to drag Yuuri into a couple as well, excitedly telling the interviewer that Yuuri is going to be the next big name in ballet. He’s not sure if any of it will make it in the article, but he can’t help himself. Yuuri is an amazing dancer and even better person and Viktor wants him to be as loved as he himself is.

One Tuesday, Yuuri walks with him to the rink after practice because Lilia has an appointment and is unable to have their private class. Yuuri is unusually quiet, despite Viktor’s gentle prods for conversation.

“Vicchan, you help me skate today?” Yuuri finally says, just before Viktor opens the door to the rink.

He turns to look at him, blinking in shock. “You want to go back on the ice?” Viktor asks, trying to temper the excitement in his voice.

Yuuri nods, looking determined. “Yes, want to try more again.”

“ _Udivitel'no_! We have so much fun, Yuura!” Viktor takes his hand and tugs him inside, chatting excitedly to the employee behind the counter. He takes the skates from them and leads Yuuri over to the benches near the entrance. There’s already a couple of skaters on the ice, who Yuuri eyes warily, but Viktor is undeterred. “I help you lace up again, _da_?”

“You on ice now?”

“I supposed to weight train, but you more important,” Viktor says with complete seriousness. “Yasha no mind.” Yakov probably _will_ mind, and Lilia too if Yuuri gets hurt again, but if Yuuri wants to try again, Viktor isn’t going to stop him.

“You sure, Vicchan?”

Viktor ties off his second skate and sits next to him to lace up his own. “I promise! I take blame if we in trouble.”

Once they’re on the ice, Viktor stays right in front ofYuuri, holding his hands to keep him steady until Yuuri lets go of one of his hands, then they carefully skate side by side. Viktor takes it slow this time, coaxing Yuuri with gentle hands, letting Yuuri decide how fast they go, and showing Yuuri how to stop when he asks.

“Okay, I ready now,” Yuuri says with determination, about thirty minutes into their skate. He loosens his grasp on Viktor’s hand and Viktor pulls away slowly, watching to make sure Yuuri is steady.

“Doing good, Yuura, go slow.” He skates backwards, letting Yuuri skate towards him at his own speed and always there to steady him when Yuuri starts to wobble. He’s just managed to get Yuuri to skate a full lap on his own when Yakov shows up.

“Vitya, you’re supposed to be in the weight room,” he chides. “Yuuri, does Lilia know you’re here?”

Yuuri stops carefully and turns to look at Yakov, bowing the way he still does when he’s nervous, his feet only a little unsteady. “Yes, Yakov-sensei, she has appointment today, so I come with Vicchan.”

Yakov gives him a look, glancing pointedly at his skates. “And does she know you planned to skate today?”

Yuuri turns beet red and hangs his head shamefully. “No, Yakov-sens- um, Yakov, sir. I not tell her that part. I ask Vicchan, please no mad at him.”

There’s several moments of silence before Yakov says, “Just be careful, boy, you’re doing fine.”

Yuuri’s beaming smile is worth any lecture Lilia might give, in Viktor’s opinion, and probably Yakov’s as well.

888

The second half of the competitive season is just as full as the first half and Viktor sees less and less of Yuuri heading into the Junior World Championships, which he is full expected to win by, well, everyone. The pressure doesn’t bother Viktor, having long since grown used to it, and it’s ridiculously easy for him to live up to those expectations. At the same time, Yuuri is training harder than ever for his next show and Viktor worries when he catches Yuuri falling asleep over his dinner plate for the second night in a row. He wants to talk to Lilia about it, but she and Yakov are fighting more than ever now and Yakov’s normal good natured ribbing has taken a sharp and icy turn the past two weeks. He used to smile more, Viktor remembers. Lilia too, though she was always worried about how it would put lines on her face.

Life was much simpler even just two years ago, and Viktor wishes Yuuri could have been here during those happier times.

They still share dance classes a couple of times a week, and today, Lilia has Yuuri up front, demonstrating a difficult move that a few people are having a hard time with. Viktor knows Yuuri secretly hates when she does that, because he feels like an outsider still, but Viktor still loves watching him move. Yuuri’s dancing never gets old, never stops looking like music in motion. After class, they walk to the ice rink together, since Lilia has another appointment. It’s three days before he leaves for Junior Worlds and the first actual warm day of spring. The trees are starting to bud and Viktor wonders aloud what spring is like in Japan.

Yuuri hums thoughtfully. “The _sakura_ , cherry blossoms, already open in hometown; Mari-neesan say they already almost over now when I talk to her. They just blooming up higher, though.”

“Is very pretty?”

“ _Hai_ , the most pretty. I have Neesan send me picture, so you real beauty of Japan. They festivals and the garden so bright with flower, many kinds. The air,” Yuuri takes a deep breath, eyes half closed, “so clean, smells the best.” He smiles sadly, then, mind obviously many kilometers away.

“The birds come back soon, you see how bright Russia can be,” Viktor assures him. “Soon, the trees all green and the flowers come out. Weather get very warm in summer, feels good after long winter.”

“I will no be here in summer, Vicchan,” Yuuri says, looking at him oddly. “I go back home to be with family.”

“Yuura, you leaving?” Viktor’s chest aches at the thought of Yuuri leaving, of being left alone again, with no one but two adults that do little more than fight or ignore each other entirely.

“For a month, yes, spend little time with family. I not tell you before?”

“So you’re coming back?” Relief floods through Viktor and his tightness in his chest eases at Yuuri’s nod.

“ _Da_ , I will only be gone for short time.”

“I will miss you. Send pictures, okay, Yuura?”

“Okay, Vicchan.”

And sure enough, once the competitive skating season ends and Yuuri finishes the last shows for his ballet, he goes back home to Japan. They email back and forth and, as promised, Yuuri sends him pictures every few days of his hometown. Hasetsu is beautiful and Viktor decides that he’s going to visit one day. Most of the pictures are places, but a few are of his family and the dance studio he grew up learning in. His teacher reminds Viktor of a less serious version of Lilia.

Viktor tries to push her out of his mind as soon as her name pops up. The fighting seems to have escalated the moment Yuuri left, as if Yakov and Lilia had been holding back so as not to scare the boy off. They still try to hide it from Viktor, but they’re just not very good at it. He’s taken to sleeping on the couch at Yev’s flat a couple of nights a week, always in hopes that it will be better by morning, but it never is. He doesn’t know why they don’t just get a divorce instead of drawing out everything so painfully like this. Their date nights are shorter and shorter; Viktor feels like they’re just lying to themselves at this point. However, if they do get divorced, what would happen to Yuuri? He’s Lilia’s student, after all…

They have a huge, blowout, screaming fight two days before Yuuri is supposed to come back from Japan. Viktor takes both of the dogs and stays in a hotel room up until it’s time to get Yuuri from the airport and only then does he make his way back to the house. The tension is still there, but it’s not a palpable as it was and Viktor wonders if they’ve made up or if they’ve just ignored each other to the point that it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Yasha, can I come with you to get Yuuri?” Viktor asks when he finds his coach hunched over papers in his office.

“Lilia is going to get him,” he grunts, not looking up. “I don’t think she’s left yet.”

“Thanks.” Viktor dashes back to the front door, dogs on his heels, just in time to beg Lilia to let him come. She won’t cave to the dogs, but Viktor considers it a small victory anyway. It’s not too far to the airport, but it feels like forever in the heavy silence. Lilia prefers no music to be playing, so all Viktor is left with is bouncing his leg and replying to a few text messages on his new phone. The manic energy coursing through him doesn’t stop while they’re waiting in Yuuri’s terminal, though he tries to tame it so that Lilia won’t murder him. It helps a little when a few fans spot him and immediately ask for pictures and autographs. By the time he’s done, Yuuri’s plane has landed and people are disembarking. He thanks the girls for their support and hurries back over to Lilia, craning his neck to see.

“Yuura!” Viktor waves wildly and Yuuri’s face breaks out into a huge smile. He makes his way through customs quickly enough and then he hurries over to where they’re standing, bowing quickly.

“I am very sorry to keep you waiting, Madame Baranovskaya,” he says to Lilia before turning his bright smile to Viktor. “Hi Vicchan!”

Viktor doesn’t care, he swoops in and gives Yuuri a big hug, feeling him laugh against his chest. “It hurt that you laugh, Yuura, I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Vicchan, but I back now!”

“Minako has been keeping me informed of your training,” Lilia says when they’re in the car, both boys sitting in the backseat. “I trust that you have kept up with everything I have taught you.”

“ _Da_ , Madame Baranovskaya, Minako-sensei worked extra hard on me, I not slack off.”

“We shall see.”

Yuuri wiggles in his seat when it’s obvious that she’s not going to say anything else. “Vicchan, guess what I do!”

“What?”

“I meet new friend at ice rink! She is Yuuko-san, she big fan of yours! I tell her you skate is not as good as it could be.” Viktor pokes him in the side at that, wrinkling his nose. “It okay, you still very pretty, Vicchan!”

“Not all can be as pretty at dancing like you,” Viktor mocks. “You skate when there?”

“ _Hai_ , little! Yuuko-san say I good, but I not move like you.”

Viktor laughs at that. “I send her autograph if she get my Yuura on ice without me! You be good skater with practice. You train with Yasha sometime, together with me.”

“Viktor, he is a dansuer,” Lilia snaps, and they both jump, having forgotten she was there.

“I not going to,” Yuuri assures her. “Dance is better, I better than Vicchan at dance.”

“I so hurt, Yuura, you kill me with meanness!” Viktor moans, flopping over dramatically. He can’t swear it, but Lilia’s lips quirk up slightly.

Viktor spends the rest of the summer showing Yuuri all the fun things there are to do in Russia, between dance classes and Viktor continuing to teach Yuuri how to ice skate. He’s progressed to doing bunny hops now, but he’s constantly worried that he’s going to hurt himself and Lilia will be mad, which makes him reluctant to do much more than that.

And then, all of a sudden one day towards the end of summer, just before the competitive season starts back up, Viktor realizes that it’s been a full year since Yuuri came to live with them. There’s a tentative peace in the house once again, and Viktor doesn’t want to break it, so he doesn’t say anything, just takes Yuuri out for a dinner to celebrate.

 _Here’s to another year with Yuuri_ , he silently toasts himself, smiling down at where Yuuri’s dark head is against his shoulder, sound asleep in the back of the cab home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wishing Bell is an actual thing! Once again, the language divide fucks it up and Viktor butchers it (smol son, please practice your English, you’re killing me), but it was a neat little thing to read about.
> 
> Some of you maybe like, “Yuuri’s writing is better than his English!” and yes, it is, because he can easily double check his work before giving it to Viktor, whereas he can’t do that with speaking because, like, it’s 2003, the smartphone won’t be available for four more years. *insert joke about the young ones gasping in horror at the fact that we used to not have the internet literally in our hands*
> 
> ALSO screaming all the shoutouts to idc_chan, who helped and nagged and tried to distract with ideas THE CAPTIVE PRINCE AU THOUGH sssshhhhhhh <333333333
> 
> Links to where I got information, any inaccuracies can be blamed on them:  
> [Japanese New Years traditions](https://japantoday.com/category/features/a-guide-to-new-year-traditions-in-japan-2)  
> [Russian New Years traditions](https://culturalawareness.com/new-years-traditions-in-russia/)


	3. Year Two: 2004-2005

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD PLEASE DON'T KILL ME
> 
> I swear, I tried my damnedest to get this one out yesterday, because I had a surprise day off (first one in nearly a month) and I wrote and wrote and cried to idc_chan and then tiny human came home and became tiny octopus. (When we watch tv together, he literally will take one of my arms and wrap his arms and legs around it and refuse to let go. Will _whine_ if I try to move it. Tiny Octopus.)
> 
> Edit, because a lot of people, myself included, are confused about the boy's ages: In the beginning of this chapter, Viktor is 16 and Yuuri is 13. At the end of the chapter, Viktor is 17 and Yuuri is 14.

Viktor slaps the ice, rolling the way he was trained to, as he fails to complete yet another quad. He tries to remind himself that it took a long time to get the flip down and he can’t rush it, but his first assignment in the Grand Prix series is coming up soon and Viktor… he _needs_ this jump, okay. He just needs to land it, to prove to everyone that it wasn’t a mistake to move up so early. Things are harder at the senior level, he has to be better than the best he was in juniors or he’ll get left behind easily.

“Vicchan, I bring you lunch, Yakov say you need eat.” Yuuri’s voice floats over the rink, through the scratch of skates on ice, the thumps of landings, the call of voices. Viktor could pick out that voice across a crowded room while wearing headphones, he’s pretty sure.

He stands up, dusting snow off his training shirt and checking around him before he darts off across the rink. “Yuuuuuuriiiiii,” he sings as he thumps to a stop at the boards in front of Yuuri. “You brighten day! Bring me good Japanese lunch?”

Yuuri nods, beaming up at him. “I make bento for you and Yakov, fill you up!” He nods to where Yakov is already seated, opening up his own lunch. It’s only since Yuuri came back that he had begun cooking more and started bringing everyone lunch in a thing he called a bento box. Yuuri had even found ones that matched each of them. Viktor’s had ice skates on it, Yakov’s had gold medals, and Lilia’s were printed with ballet slippers. The food in them ranged from traditional Japanese meals to Russian favorites that Yuuri and Viktor cooked together. It was nice, cooking with Yuuri, spending time with him, learning new foods and techniques.

They sit down at one of the lunch tables, Yuuri opening his own box, covered in little blue poodles, while Viktor sits next to him. Yuuri is full of chatter, but it doesn’t take long before he realizes that Viktor isn’t talking much.

“What is wrong, Vicchan?” Viktor blinks, looking up from the carefully arranged food in his box, and hums questioningly at Yuuri. “You very quiet today, what is wrong?”

“Is just hard than I think, going to senior,” Viktor admits quietly. “I fall lots when I not before. It is hard.”

Yuuri hums thoughtfully, picking at his own food. “I understand, it not easy to move up, but you get better, Vicchan. You practice hard all the time, you get better soon.”

Viktor laughs, ruffling Yuuri’s hair teasingly. “You have much faith in me, Yuura.”

“Always, Vicchan. You go back to number one, I know.”

Feeling better after hearing the confidence in Yuuri’s voice, Viktor digs into his lunch, poking and prodding Yuuri about how his ballet classes were going. They’re harder than they had been the previous year when he first came to Russia, but Yuuri is enjoying them. Lilia had not become an easier teacher with time, but Yuuri swears it’s for the best. He was worried, though, because, “Madame Baranovskaya is going to _ishi_ , hm, physical? No, wrong word. Ah…” His brow wrinkles adorably as he searches for the right word. “Doctor?”

“Oh, _vrach_!” He repeats the word to Yuuri, helping him with his pronunciation until it’s clear enough that if he ever does have to use the word, people will be able to understand him. “She go to doctor often?” Viktor asks curiously.

Yuuri nods, looking miserable. “One every two week, sometime more! She look sleepy.”

Viktor frowns, eating another bite of his lunch as he turns this over in his mind. He hasn’t seen Lilia much lately, mostly because of their schedules, but now that Yuuri mentions it, he realizes he hasn’t even had a lesson with her in over a month. He would chalk it up to other things, but he doesn’t think he’s ever gone that long without Lilia breathing down his neck to be better. He resolves to ask Yakov about it later.

They change topics, discussing their classes and Yuuri pulls out a stack of English flashcards, pushing his barely eaten bento away and playfully demanding that Viktor help him. It helps Viktor, too, so he supposes he really can’t complain. Next was the Russian to Japanese ones before Yakov was yelling for Viktor to get back on the ice.

“You come on today?” Viktor asks.

“Little bit, I can. Lesson with Lilia is late today.” Yuuri goes the the counter to get a pair of rented skates and lets Viktor lace them up. “I do it, Vicchan, I have to learn!”

“I like doing it.” Viktor pouts up from where he’s kneeling on the floor in front of him, hands deftly lacing up the boots. “I make sure they tight, you no fall with me here!”

Yuuri laughs, one of Viktor’s favorite sounds, and doesn’t argue, just takes Viktor’s offered hand and lets himself be led to the rink entrance.

“Viktor, you get out on the ice!” Yakov snaps as he skates over to them. “I will teach Yuuri today.”

“ _Yasha_ ,” Viktor whines, but another glare from Yakov has him taking off, skating a few laps around the ice to warm his body back up after the break.

“I sorry, Yakov-san, I not want to distract Vicchan,” Yuuri tells him worriedly.

“Nonsense. If you want to learn how to skate properly, I will teach you. Viktor is too much of an airhead,” Yakov says conspiratorially, winking at Yuuri, who laughs.

“Yakov-san?” Yakov hums in acknowledgement, eyes tracking Viktor across the rink. “What means ‘airhead’?”

Yakov chokes a bit, glancing down at the boy. “Ah, it means he is very silly and does not pay attention.”

Yuuri appears to think on this for a second before nodding seriously. “Vicchan is airhead.”

Yakov doesn’t admit that he’s got a new favorite, deciding instead to focus on Yuuri’s skating, which has improved drastically since that first disastrous attempt. “Okay, you’re doing well with going forward, now here’s how to skate backwards-”

888

It takes another week and a half before Viktor finally manages to catch Lilia for longer than a few moments of time, and even then, it’s when she’s getting ready to go out… somewhere.

“Lilia, Yuuri told me he’s worried because you’ve been going to the doctor a lot, are you okay?” Viktor asks, leaning with faux casualness against the door of her room.

“Of course I am, Viktor. It is none of your business.” She aims a pointed look at him and Viktor bows out respectfully. He should have known Lilia wouldn’t say anything to him, but-

“Ah, please don’t be mad at Yuuri for telling me, he just worries a lot.”

The harsh lines on Lilia’s face soften for a moment as she nods, then Viktor disappears before she can tell him off about his form or something.

“No, Vicchan, bad!” Viktor can hear Yuuri yelling as he enters the hallway that leads to their rooms. He frowns, because he hasn’t done anything, and hurries to Yuuri’s room, where he’s still yelling, voice high.

“Yuura, what wrong?” he asks, bursting into Yuuri’s room. Yuuri looks up at him, face blotchy with tears as he tugs on a black ballet slipper, the other end held in the grip of little Vicchan, whose tail is wagging happily. “Oh, Yuuri…”

“He not let go, he tear them! Bad Vicchan, let go!” He snaps something in Japanese that Viktor doesn’t catch and gently bops Vicchan’s nose. The puppy finally lets go, looking chastised as he whines. “Oh, no, they ruin,” Yuuri moans, examining them. “You very bad, Vicchan,” he tells the dog sternly. Vicchan slopes closer, the very picture of doggy sadness, and gives Yuuri’s hand a little lick.

Viktor squats beside him and takes the shoe, grimacing at the feel of dog slobber, and seeing the holes made by sharp puppy teeth. “It okay, Yuura, we get you new ones,” he says comfortingly.

“ _Nyet_ , spend my last money for these, no money to buy new one,” Yuuri sniffs, hand petting Vicchan as fresh tears track down his face. “Madame Baranovskaya be mad, I no dance with no shoe! I suppose to practice for audition soon.”

“You get audition?” Viktor asks, suddenly side tracked from this disaster by the news.

“ _Da_ , for _Shchelkunchik, Balet-feyeriya_ , it in two week, but now I no dance, no shoes.” Yuuri swipes at the tear tracks in agitation, sniffing again.

“Yuuri, this good news! Nutcracker big ballet, why you not tell me?”

“I only learn today, but it not matter, Vicchan, I have no shoe,” Yuuri stresses, holding up the ruined pair. He glares down at Vicchan, still looking sad from his seat in Yuuri’s lap. “Naughty bad Vicchan.”

“What did Viktor do now?” Yakov’s voice makes both of them jump and glance at him standing just outside the doorway.

“Not Viktor, Vicchan,” Yuuri says, wiping at his tears. “Vicchan eat ballet shoes.”

“We’ll take you to get new ones, Yuuri-”

“I not have allowance for shoes, these new and suppose to last for long time.”

Yakov frowns, looking between them and the shoes. “We can get you new ones, it’ll be oka-” But he stops when Yuuri furiously shakes his head.

“Not borrow money, I-”

“Yuuri-”

“Yuura-”

“I will buy you a new pair, you can pay me back when you get your next shoe allowance,” Lilia’s voice cuts in. _Everyone_ jumps. “I cannot have my future principal dansuer miss any practice just because of a pair of shoes chewed up by a dog.” At this, everyone looks at little Vicchan, who whines at the attention and presses closer to Yuuri.

“And starting soon, both of the dogs need to be put in obedience school,” Yakov adds. He holds his hand up to forestall any protests. “I will pay for both of them, but you two will be responsible for taking them,” he looks meaningfully at Viktor, “and I expect to see better behavior in the future. Ballet slippers are not cheap and not chew toys.”

Yuuri nods his agreement, wiping his cheeks again, though his tears have stopped. “Thank you, Madame Baranovskaya and Yakov-san,” he says respectfully.

“Yasha, I knew you loved us!” Viktor says cheerfully, earning himself an eye roll from both adults before they tell them goodbye and leave for their date night. Viktor decides to console Yuuri by calling in a delivery order for pizza and dragging him to Viktor’s room for a movie marathon because “That what they do in America movies!” All of Viktor’s movies are in Russian, of course, but Viktor just insists that it will help Yuuri improve his Russian.

“Or we rent movie? Place down street has English too,” Viktor says, lowering the two movie options he was holding up.

“ _Nyet_ , we watch Russian, it okay. You pick favorite, Vicchan, that what I want to see.”

Viktor beams at him and grabs an entirely different movie off the shelf, one of his favorites from childhood that he could watch over and over and never be sick of. They sit on Viktor’s bed, backs to the headboard as the movie starts. It’s only on a few minutes before Viktor has to pause it and bounce downstairs to get the pizza. He and Yuuri giggle like naughty children as they eat on the bed, watching the movie and enjoying the rare greasy snack. Viktor is beginning to worry about how thin Yuuri has been looking lately, so he’s relieved to see him actually eating the food this time. He had mentioned it to Yakov, who waved it off with the explanation that Yuuri is probably just going through a growth spurt. Apparently for most young people that means a period of eating a lot and then growing and thinning out again. Viktor wonders at that; he’s always grown pretty steadily and never really had much of a growth spurt.

But still. Viktor thinks back to a conversation he and Yuuri had had before, about Yuuri’s weight and Lilia’s demands and wonders if there’s more to it. He doesn’t say anything, but resolves to watch Yuuri more carefully. For now.

The pizza box is thrown out after the movie, hiding the evidence of their treat, and they curl up together to watch another one. Yuuri is asleep less than halfway through, his little chest rising and falling slowly. Viktor watches him sleep for a moment, taking in the thin face, the slightest smudges of dark under Yuuri’s eyes. Is he not getting enough sleep? Is he eating enough? Is he taking enough breaks from his dancing to rest himself? Viktor wants to wrap Yuuri in his arms, never let him go, protect him from the world and the demands placed upon his frail shoulders.

Viktor falls asleep with these thoughts running through his head and Yuuri’s even breathing ghosting over his cheek.

888

The next week starts off no better than the last, with Viktor falling on quads more often than he lands them. It’s frustrating in a way that he’s never experienced before. From the beginning, Viktor has taken to the ice like fish in water, has never struggled with anything for more than a couple of days. To have this happen now, when he’s on the edge of his senior debut, is disheartening at best, and absoluting devastating at worst.

“Vitya, I did warn you that it would not be easy,” Yakov tries to comfort, but Viktor shakes it off with a groan.

“I know, but I’ve done it before! The flip is the easiest jump, why am I struggling so much?” Viktor heaves out a sigh, his fringe fluttering in front of his face.

“Because you expect too much of yourself, like always. This is the hardest part, at least until you get old.” Yakov frowns at him for a moment, eyes calculating. “Perhaps you should-”

“If you tell me that I should take a break, I will find another coach,” Viktor snaps. He winces when Yakov levels him with a Look and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean that. I just…”

“I know, Vitya. Like I said, you expect too much of yourself. I was only going to say that maybe you should practice something else for now, like your step sequences. The second half is sloppy, you’re too tired by the end to get them right. Lilia said she would take a look and see if she can help.”

“Speaking of Lilia,” Viktor says, looking up as he remembers the conversation with Yuuri a few weeks ago. “Yuuri says she’s been going to the doctor a lot lately. I tried to ask her about it, but-”

“Vitya, if she doesn’t want to talk about it, then it’s not my place to say,” Yakov interrupts. “Don’t go pushing your nose where it does not belong.”

Viktor wrinkles said nose, frowning at his coach, but drops it like he was asked. He worries, though, that neither want to talk to him about it. It’s either nothing or it’s really serious. He’s pretty sure it’s the latter. “How’s Yuuri’s skating going, since you won’t let me teach him anymore.”

“He’s good, a natural once he gets comfortable on the ice. He would have made a great skater,” Yakov sigh wistfully.

“Lilia would kill you if you tried to take her student,” Viktor laughs.

“And that’s why I have not said a word to the boy and neither will you, Vitya. Now get back on that ice and work on your step sequences.”

“Okay, Yakov-san.” Viktor laughs again at the look on Yakov’s face and heads out on the ice, his mind on Yuuri and the music he’s body makes. Almost like magic…

“Very good, Vitya, your step sequences are looking much better,” Yakov says later that day while Viktor is packing up his bag so they can go home. “You still look tired at the end, but at least your footwork has improved.”

“I am tired, Yasha.” Viktor yawns widely, and it’s only a little faked. “You work me so hard…”

“Shut up with your spoiled self and get in the car. Lilia made her chicken _pel'meni_ tonight and I’m hungry.”

“Yes, because standing on the sidelines is soooo hard!”

Yakov cuffs him on the ear, but he’s smiling as they drive to the house. Lilia makes the best chicken dumplings Viktor has ever had, and that includes at very fancy restaurants, so he can’t really blame Yakov for being happy. It’s better than the frown he wears more often than not these days. His mind drifts to the fact that neither of them will admit that something is going on with Lilia. Telling Viktor ‘it’s none of your business’ is the fastest way for Viktor to _make_ it his business. There has to be something, short of calling the doctor’s office and pretending to be Yakov, that he can do to find out what’s wrong. What if he followed her one day…

No, that would mean skipping practice and not only would Yakov murder him for not showing up this close to the beginning of the season, but he also wants to get as much practice as possible because _he’s still not landing the effing jumps_. He pushes that frustration aside and slinks out of the car once it’s parked in front of the house. Maybe he’ll talk to Yuuri about it, see if he has any ideas.

Or maybe not. He doesn’t want Yuuri to get in trouble, after all. Viktor is used to being in trouble, what with his precocious nature and all. Yakov tells him he’s spoiled, not precocious, but Viktor knows he just says that to make himself feel better.

“Yuuuuuuriiiiii,” Viktor sing-songs after he toes out of his shoes and drops his bag by the door.

“In _k-kuk-kukhnya_ , Vicchan!” Yuuri calls back. Viktor hears Lilia talking, probably helping Yuuri with his pronunciation like Viktor and Yakov do, and he makes a move to join them before Yakov’s voice stops him.

“Pick that up and put it where it belongs, _right now, Vitya_ , Yuuri isn’t going anywhere.”

Viktor pouts at Yakov, but moves his bag to the closet and dropping it next to Yuuri’s. He hangs his coat up as well, just to show Yakov _see, I can behave!_ before he follows his nose to the kitchen. The dancers are side by side, Lilia patiently showing Yuuri what to do before letting him try it himself. Yuuri is so tiny that they’ve pulled out the short stool they keep in the pantry so that he can see better and the sight is truly too adorable for Viktor, who coos as he goes to hug Yuuri.

“Stop that right now, Viktor,” Lilia snaps. “Yuuri is learning, don’t disturb him.”

“Look, Vicchan, we make chicken _pel'mani_!”

“ _Pel'meni_ ,” Lilia corrects gently. “And it’s ‘we _made_ ’ or ‘we are making’, not make.”

Yuuri nods sagely before they both turn back to the stove top and Viktor watches in awe as Lilia and Yuuri finish making dinner before Yakov prods him to get the plates and silverware together. The food, once they’re all seated with full plates, is delicious. Viktor and Yuuri chatter as they eat while the adults sit in silence. Viktor has to poke and prod Yuuri a few times, but eventually his plate is clear of food as well. It’s not until everyone is done that Lilia finally speaks up.

“There is something I need to tell you both.”

Viktor stops trying to covertly feed Makka under the table and looks up sharply. Next to him, Yuuri frown, setting his fork down and giving her his full attention.

“I know you both have had questions the past month, so I will give you an answer: yes, I am sick. It doesn’t matter with what, just know that I am working to get better. Things will be worse before they are better, but my prognosis is good. I expect both of you to keep working hard and not disappointment me.”

“ _Da._ ”

“ _Da_ , Madame Baranovskaya.”

“Good. Now, go work on your English lessons.”

“And don’t forget that the dogs start obedience school tomorrow,” Yakov adds. “Vitya, you are responsible for getting them and Yuuri there. Yuuri, you are responsible for making sure that you all get there on time and Viktor doesn’t wander off.”

“ _Yasha_!” Viktor whines, “I never-”

“Viktor, you ran off two weeks ago because you saw a dog-”

“I want to pet it, I-”

“And before that-”

“Yuuuuuriiii, tell Yasha not be mean!”

“I not getting in this,” Yuuri says, laughing as he watches the two of them argue. He clears the table, nudging Viktor to help, even as the other boy keeps playfully arguing with Yakov. Together, they clean up and then go upstairs to Yuuri’s room, dogs bounding happily with them. Homework is done quickly before they start on English and before they know it, it’s bedtime. Viktor goes to take a shower at the same time as Yuuri, but manages to finish before his young friend and decides to sprawl out on Yuuri’s bed to wait, Vicchan on his chest and Makka at his side. He sees the surprise on Yuuri’s face when he comes back and watches as he puts his dirty clothes in his laundry hamper

“Viktor, you get bed wet,” Yuuri chides gently before joining Viktor on the bed.

“Your bed more comfortable than mine,” Viktor whines, not moving an inch.

“I have to sleep in wet bed, not you.”

“I sleep here tonight?” He gives Yuuri his best pouting face. He doesn’t ask often, because most people don’t deem it appropriate, but there’s something about Yuuri that brings warmth to his chest, a comfort that Viktor never knew he was missing.

“Okay, Vicchan, you stay here tonight. But no snore this time!” Viktor whines again, insisting that he never snores, and laughing when Yuuri just sticks out his tongue. They both wiggle their way under the covers, the two dogs sprawled out between them.

“Have good dream, Yuura.”

“Good night, Vicchan.”

888

After another day full of falling, the last thing Viktor wants to do is drag his sore body to doggie obedience school, but Yuuri is insistent and Yakov is glaring at him and, really, there’s nothing to do but walk to the place where the class is being held. Makka is happy to be the leader, though Viktor doubts she know exactly where they’re going. They realize when they get there that they’re the youngest ones in their class, though all the dogs are puppies. Yuuri is too shy to ask questions, not confident in his Russian, so he prods Viktor when he needs clarification. The dogs are good, following along and learning, and before they realize it, the weeklong course is done and the dogs are graduating. It’s a silly little ceremony, but Viktor insists on pictures anyway. They head home the last day, stopping for ice cream and getting congratulatory doggie cones for the graduates from a place down the road from the house that doesn’t mind animals inside.

“Vicchan, sit,” Yuuri commands, and little Vicchan does as he’s told before he’s given his treat.

“Makkachin, lay down,” Vitkor commands, and Makka jumps up, her paws on Viktor’s legs and tail waving happily. Yuuri laughs, scooping up a bite of his own ice cream as Viktor mock-scolds his dog before giving her the ice cream anyway.

“You spoil her.”

“She good dog, she deserves spoils.”

Yuuri shakes his head, but he’s smiling, so Vitkor takes that as a win. After everyone has eaten, they go home, Yuuri chatting excitedly beside him about wanting to show Lilia how good Vicchan is now, how well he responds to commands. He’s been teaching Vicchan commands in Russian, English, and Japanese; the dog is really smart, Viktor thinks, to be able to follow along with them all. _Viktor_ can’t even manage it with two languages some days.

Yuuri unlocks the front door, but before they can call out, the sounds of yelling filter down to their ears. Viktor can’t hear everything they’re saying, but he also Doesn’t Want To Know. He looks over at Yuuri, whose face is stricken as he stares down the hall to where Lilia and Yakov are having what sounds like an all out screaming fight.

“Come on, Yuuri, I take you for dinner,” Viktor whispers, trying to nudge Yuuri out of the door. It takes a little effort, because Yuuri is glued to the spot, but he manages. Viktor thinks about leaving the dogs, but he also know that Yuuri is very attached to Vicchan and the little dog helps Yuuri when his anxiety becomes too much. He calls a cab, asking for one that will be willing to let the dogs ride, and has it take them to a sandwich shop that Viktor knows for sure allows dogs inside. Yuuri is silent the entire ride, which makes Viktor nervous. They’re usually so good about not fighting when there’s a chance he and Yuuri are going to be there, but it must have been going on for some time. Viktor tries hard not to think what it means, the renewed fighting, the few words he was able to catch and what might be waiting for them when they get back.

“Come on, Yuura, this place make best sandwich,” Viktor says when they get out of the cab; he can hear the forced cheerfulness in his voice and knows Yuuri can too by the slump of his shoulders. Not to be deterred, he drags the lot of them into the shop, ordering the doggie special for both dogs and sandwiches for him and Yuuri. Unsurprisingly, Yuuri picks at his food when they sit down and for the first time, Viktor knows it has nothing to do with his worries about his weight. Viktor can’t blame him, the stress causing his own stomach to clench, but they are athletes and they need to eat.

It takes a while, pulling Yuuri from wherever his mind has taken and cajoling him to eat. It takes a combination of teasing, prodding, and full on demands at times, but Yuuri’s sandwich is gone by the end. The dogs are lying quietly beside them, ready to go back to the house, and Viktor is seriously considering just taking the lot of them to a hotel for the night, but that might not be the best choice for Yuuri. He’s more settled in Russia after a year, it’s true, but is moving him around good? Should he stay in his own room, more familiar, despite the fighting that’s probably petered out by now?

They’ll go home, and tomorrow, he will talk to Yakov about this. It can’t be healthy for Yuuri, after all. From the look on his face, this isn’t something he’s used to with his own parents, like Viktor was, and he looks like he’s barely stopping himself from having an anxiety attack on the ride home.

It’s quiet when they get there, the kind of quiet that’s oppressive and heavy. The dogs don’t make any noise as their leads are unclipped, and Yuuri stays silent as they take off their shoes and make their way upstairs to their rooms. Not a word passes between them as they part ways, going to their own rooms to get ready for bed. Viktor has just crawled under the covers when there’s a soft knock on his door.

“Come in.”

Yuuri opens the door, his face shadowed by the lack of light, and it looks like he’s carrying little Vicchan in his arms. “Vicchan, I sleep here?” His voice trembles and he stays by the door, as though afraid Viktor will tell him no.

Like Viktor could ever tell him no. “Come on, Yuura.” Viktor pats the covers on the free side of the bed, moving Makka as Yuuri closes the door behind him and walks around the bed to climb him. Vicchan moves around to get comfortable as Yuuri lays down, setting his glasses on the table next to the bed.

“Vicchan, you… you think they okay?” he whispers in the dark.

“I think they okay. I talk to Yakov tomorrow, see what was wrong. I make things better for you, Yuura, I promise.”

“I know, Vicchan. You always make things better.”

888

The house is still silent in the morning and there is no sign on Lilia anywhere. Breakfast is eaten in silence, what little they manage to eat, and then Yakov is ushering them to the car.

“I’m dropping you off at the studio from now on, Yuuri,” he says once they’re driving down the road.

“Okay, Yakov-san,” Yuuri quietly replies.

“Lilia will not be home for a few days, but she is still going to be at the studio, so your lessons will not be interrupted,” Yakov adds. Viktor is itching to ask more, but the despondent way that Yuuri’s shoulders droop stop him. He’ll ask Yakov when they’re alone.

“Eat your lunch today, Yuura,” Viktor says sternly when they pull up to the studio. Yuuri nods, but Viktor doesn’t think he’ll listen. “I see you after, _da_?”

“ _Da_ , Vicchan, I come to rink after,” Yuuri mumbles. Viktor gives him a quick hug before he leaves and only barely manages to wait until they’re driving again before saying anything.

“Yasha, what happened last night.”

“Don’t use that tone with me, Viktor,” Yakov says warningly. Viktor knows that he should back off when his coach uses _that tone_ , but he has to find out what’s going on, why they were fighting, why Lilia wasn’t there this morning and wouldn’t be for a while, from the sound of it.

“No, I need to know. I’m worried about Yuuri, we came home last night and heard the two of you and you didn’t see his face! Yakov-”

“VIKTOR,” Yakov thunders, and this time Viktor’s mouth snaps shut. Yakov has only ever seriously yelled at him like this twice in the near ten years they’ve been working together. “It is none of your business what happens between Lilia and I. Yuuri will be fine and he will still be staying with us for the time being, that is all that you need to know.”

Yuuri will be staying with them, but Lilia will be leaving. It’s not really a fair trade, because this is going to stress Yuuri out. Viktor tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that he will at least be there for Yuuri, to watch out for him and take care of him. There won’t be any fighting in the house, but Lilia will be gone. Maybe Yuuri will be convinced to eat more if Lilia isn’t around, even, though Viktor doubts it. And it will put more stress on Yakov to drive Yuuri to the studio, which isn’t out of the way, but is also not on the way to the rink, every morning.

Viktor spend the morning overthinking the pros and cons and fretting over the whole ordeal. Yakov obviously notices, but thankfully doesn’t call him out on it this time. Instead, he makes Viktor go through his step sequences again and again before sending him to the weight room until it’s lunch time. Yuuri doesn’t come by today; he has his audition for the Nutcracker today and Lilia will be working him hard to fine tune the smallest things. Viktor frets throughout the afternoon before he gets a text an hour before they’re supposed to finish up for the day.

 _Yuura:_ _  
_ _They said I did well and will let me know next week if I got the part._

This is good and bad, because now on top of everything, Yuuri is going to spend a week fretting about this. Viktor resolves to do everything he can to distract Yuuri, but the Grand Prix series starts in a week and Viktor’s first competition is the second event, Skate Canada, so the pressure is on for him to get the jumps down. He’s been landing the flip more often than not, but he knows it’s not enough for seniors. He needs to get the loop down. That or the Salchow. Something more than just one quad, and the pressure is well and truly on now.

“Yasha, where will Yuura be staying while we’re travelling?” Viktor asks tentatively when they’re on their way to the studio to pick up Yuuri.

“Lilia has a place with two rooms, Yuuri will be staying with her, don’t worry about it.”

His tone was one of finality, much like this morning, so Viktor drops it, climbing into the back after Yuuri and trying to get him to talk about his day on the ride home. Yuuri takes a while, but finally tells Viktor about the audition and the nice people who spoke slow enough to him that he was able to understand their Russian. The class portion went well, but then Yuuri mentions that he messed up his arabesque. Lilia had assured him, in her own way, that it wasn’t too big of a deal because the rest had gone well.

“How was you day, Vicchan?” Yuuri asks as they pull up to the house. Viktor hums quietly as they climb out of the car, each hefting their bags over their shoulders.

“It was good, didn’t fall a lot when doing one move, but I still not getting other moves down.”

“You doing the flip, _hai_?”

“ _Da_ , the flip, and trying to do Salchow and loop.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows as Yakov unlocks the house and they drop their bags into the closet, toeing off their wet shoes. Their dogs coming running up to greet them and they both squat to love on them. “You is trying to do both?”

“ _Da_ , I need both for my senior debut, it comes soon, I need everything perfect.”

“But Vicchan-” Little Vicchan barks and Yuuri laughs. “Not you Vicchan, Viktor, you not need to do both, you only doing one at a time to learn better.”

Viktor frowns at this, trying to figure out what Yuuri means. “I only need one? No, Yuura, I need both for competitions.”

Yuuri huffs, standing and frowning himself as he tries to find the right words. “If you are practicing both, you not get good at both. You have to practice one at a time,” Yuuri says slowly before looking up at Viktor to see if he understood.

“You saying make one good, then practice the other? Trying to do both together making it harder to learn?”

Yuuri’s eyes light up as he nods happily. “ _Hai_ , yes, Vicchan! You need get good at one, then other to make both good! Madame Baranovskaya say that to me when I learning new moves with hardness. It work for dance, maybe it work for skates too?”

“Boys, dinner,” Yakov calls.

“Come, Yuura, we eat, you too skinny,” Viktor says, tugging him along to the kitchen. “But I like you idea, I try that now.”

“Tomorrow, Vicchan, now is for food and school work,” Yuuri giggles, but he allows Viktor to lead him to the food and doesn’t argue when Viktor puts a little extra on his plate the way he normally does.

After they eat and clean up, they go up to their rooms to do their homework, but it doesn’t take long for Viktor to get bored. He halfheartedly finishes his math work before showering and taking his hairbrush to Yuuri’s room.

“Yuuuuuuriiiiii, you braid my hair tonight?” he whines as he flops onto Yuuri’s bed. Yuuri shakes his head at the dramatics.

“I need finishing my English paper and go over my Russian for testing tomorrow, Vicchan.” Little Vicchan perks up at his name until Yuuri, laughing at his eager face, tells him, “Not you Vicchan, other Vicchan.”

“Yuura, you can call me Vitya too, if it make it easier when Vicchan around,” Viktor offers, trying to slow down his heartbeat, which has suddenly kicked up for some reason.

Yuuri’s soft smile aimed at him doesn’t help in the slightest. “Okay, Vitya. But I still need to work.”

“Yuuuuuura, I help you with you Russian! You practice Russian while braid, _da_? I help you become expert.”

Yuuri sighs fondly and that’s when Viktor knows he’s got him. “Okay, okay, Vitya, I braid you hair and you practice Russian with me.”

“Deal!” He settles on the bed and takes the flashcards Yuuri hands him when he crawls up behind him. He passes the brush and ponytail bands back and they go back and forth with words while Yuuri makes a complicated braid tight against his scalp, the motions soothing. It doesn’t take long for the tension to ease out of Viktor’s body and the cards to slip through lax fingers.

“Vitya, what is next word?”

Viktor blinks, picking up the cards again. “Sorry, Yuura. Ah, _lyubov'_.”

“ _Lyubov'_. Noun, uhm, is mean love?”

Love, affection, fondness… “ _Da,_ means love, Yuura.”

“I finish your hair, Vitya. I think it time for bed, too,” Yuuri adds with a yawn. Viktor pats his head before turning and giving Yuuri a smile.

“ _Spasibo_ , Yuura. I go to bed now, we can work more tomorrow.” He leans forward, kissing Yuuri’s forehead gently before climbing off the bed and setting the cards on Yuuri’s desk. He grabs his brush and whistles for Makka, who jumps down from the bed to join him.

“ _Dobroy nochi_ , Vitya.”

Viktor smiles, “ _Dobroy nochi_ , Yuura. Sleep good.”

888

The next week is full of practicing and last minute adjustments to Viktor’s costumes and preparing to fly to Halifax. Between all of those, Viktor tries to calm Yuuri’s nerves, which crank up every day that he hasn’t heard back about the part in the Nutcracker. He’s been stress eating lately, constantly nibbling on something, and then hating himself afterwards. Viktor tries, telling Yuuri that he’s too skinny and actually should be eating more, but the look on Yuuri’s face zips his mouth shut rather quickly.

The day they’re set to fly out, Yuuri is sitting on his bed crying when Viktor comes in to tell him they’re about to leave. Before they go to the airport, they have to drop Yuuri off with Lilia, which Viktor hates because he’d rather Yuuri come with them. He hates the fact that Yuuri is crying more and hurries over to wrap his arms around him.

“Yuura, what is matter! You hurt? Where you hurt!” Viktor demands frantically, trying to look Yuuri over while not letting him go.

“They not call, Vicchan! I not good enough, I never good enough,” Yuuri sobs, burying his face into Viktor’s chest with such force that he’s bowled back slightly.

“What?”

“The-” _hiccough_ “the people from ballet-” _hiccough_ “they not call Lilia, I not good enough!” _hiccough_ “I _never_ good enough, now I fat and not be able to dance and-” _hiccough_

“That enough, not talk about yourself like that!” Viktor snaps. He’s never been good with tears, but hearing Yuuri talk about himself this way feels like being stabbed in the gut. He steps back and holds Yuuri by the shoulders. His big brown eyes are wide at the sudden movement, staring up at Viktor in shock. “You not fat, you beautiful, if they not see how amazing you move, then it they loss! You the best there, I know it! You should have all awards, you better than stupid people who no see talent! You not fat, you so skinny that I worry, you strong and powerful and the best ever! Forget stupid people, Yuuri! You try your best?”

It takes Yuuri a moment to realize he’s supposed to answer the question, “I- yes, but I mess up-”

“No, you do best you can! If they no like, they stupid!”

“Vicchan-”

“Say it, Yuura.”

“Say what?”

“Say you do your best!”

“I- do my best?”

“No, not a question, you do your best Yuura, I know it. You know it.”

“I do my best.”

“And you not fat.”

“Vicchan-”

Viktor cups Yuuri’s face in his hands, staring at him. “Yuura. You not fat.”

“But-”

“Say it.”

“I… I not fat, and I do my best at my audition.”

“ _Da_ ,” Viktor says, nodding firmly. “It they loss if they not pick you, but Yuura, it may just take longer to call this time. They not say no, _da_?”

“But I not hear from them-”

“ _-yet_ ,” Viktor stresses. “You not hear from them _yet_. Give more time, Yuura. Talk to Lilia about it. It not all bad, I promise.”

Yuuri finally nods in agreement and stands, wrapping his arms around Viktor. “I talk to Lilia, Vicchan. I sorry for crying.”

“No, Yuura, you never be sorry for crying,” Viktor says, holding Yuuri tightly for as long as he’ll let him. “It not your fault, you just nervous about big show. I promise, everything better soon. I bring you home a gold medal, _da_? And souvenirs, and chocolate, and then we go skating, okay?”

“Okay, Vicchan,” Yuuri says, laughing as he pulls away, swiping at his eyes. Viktor cups his face again, staring into his beautiful eyes.

“I make everything better for you, Yuura, I promise.”

“I know, Vitya.” Then Yuuri does something that completely surprises him, standing on his tiptoes and pressing a warm kiss to Viktor’s cheek.

Viktor blinks, his hand coming up to press the spot when Yuuri steps back and grabs his bag from the bed. The warmth lingers long after they’ve dropped Yuuri and the dogs at Lilia’s apartment and they’ve boarded the plane.

888

There’s a message waiting for him when they get to the hotel after the first day of practicing and Viktor wastes no time calling Yuuri back as soon as he gets to the room.

“Yuura, what is wrong?” he asks frantically before Yuuri starts yelling.

“Vicchan, they say I got the part! I the new Nutcracker Prince!”

“That so awesome, Yuura! I so proud! I tell you to wait, don’t I? They just take longer sometime! Yasha, Yuuri got the part of Nutcracker Prince!” Viktor tells Yakov excitedly when Yakov steps out of the bathroom.

“Tell him good job, but you need to get off the phone, Vitya, international calls are expensive.” There’s a gleam in Yakov’s eyes, though, that take the edge off of the words.

“Okay, okay. Yuura, I am to be going now, but we super proud of you! This bring me good luck now, I definitely going to bring a gold medal back for you,” Viktor says seriously, and Yuuri just laughs.

“Remember to take slow, Vicchan, you not have to do all quads in the same program,” Yuuri tells him with all the wisdom of his near-fourteen years.

“I do them all for you.”

888

Viktor does not bring Yuuri a gold medal back, but Yuuri insists that silver is just as good, though he once again tries to refuse to accept it. Viktor just “accidentally” keeps forgetting it in Yuuri’s room until Yuuri gives in and hangs it next to the gold one.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though. He had listened to Yuuri, (and, by proxy, Yakov) and only added the quad flip and the quad Salchow to his routine, though he still touched down on the Salchow. The fact that all the jumps aren’t coming easily to him the way they did before still grates his nerves, but he tells himself that silver at his first event on the senior level is still really good. His next event is the Trophée Éric Bompard in France, which is the second to last event, so there’s a good stretch of time for him to practice more and gives him the chance to figure out close to the minimal score he’ll need to advance to the finals.

He takes Yuuri out for dinner the day after they get back to celebrate his getting the part. Yuuri tries to wave off his praise, pointing out that Viktor got a silver medal in his event, but Viktor refuses to relent, pointing out that getting the part of the Nutcracker Prince is a Big Deal. Yuuri tells him about meeting the director for the ballet and about the increased practice time with Lilia and in return, Vitkor tells him about Canada. The food, the views, the culture, all things he’s seen before, but they’re no less beautiful to Viktor. He admits to Yuuri that he’s been skimping on his English lessons lately to try to learn some French, but it’s a difficult language and Viktor hasn’t made much progress. Not to mention, Canadian French is often different from Francian French.

For both of them, practice increases in time and difficulty as the month of October ends and November rolls in, the chilly weather getting even more chillier. Lilia remains in her new place, but each week when Viktor has his lesson with her at the studio, she seems to be thinner, her eyes tightly reining in the tiredness she obviously feels. He worries, and mentions his worry to Yakov and Yuuri, both who know little to nothing about her current state of health. He wonders if now is when they’ll finally get the divorce that’s been lingering the past few years.

Viktor wins gold in Paris, narrowly, and heads to the Finals filled with excitement. He’s cleanly landing the Salchow in practice more often than not, to the point where he’s starting to practice the loop as well. He plans on showing it off at the Final, though he keeps that fact from his coach and Yuuri, who will tell Yakov if he thinks Viktor is going to do something stupid.

This year, Viktor doesn’t have a competition on Yuuri’s birthday and so spends the day dragging him around St. Petersburg, feeding him good food and doing his best to spoil Yuuri. At the end of the day, he drags him to the ice rink, sitting him down on a bench before hurry to the locker room to retrieve the present he left there yesterday.

“Here, Yuura, you open your present now!” Viktor beams as Yuuri shakes his head, accepting the box. “This the only place you not find and ruin surprise,” he teases, laughing when Yuuri sticks his tongue out at him. Yuuri rips through the paper and gasps when he sees the picture of ice skates on the top of the box.

“Vicchan…”

“I have them special made for you, Yuura, look!” Viktor lifts the lid to reveal the boots, which are solid black with little Japanese flags on the sides. “Now we are matching!”

“Vicchan, this too much-”

Viktor waves the words away, because if it’s for Yuuri, there’s no such thing as too much. “No, you need good boots if you skate a lot. Renting them is not good for all the time, so I buy you skates instead.”

Yuuri looks like he’s going to cry, so Viktor scoops him up into a hug, kissing the top of his head. “You will take the gift, Yuura? Please?”

“Okay, Vicchan, I take the gift,” Yuuri says, sniffing. “ _Spasibo_.”

They can’t skate right then, but Yuuri keeps his skates in Viktor’s locker and they head out together, the promise of many days of skating ahead of them.

888

They leave a few days before the Grand Prix Final, which is held in Beijing this year, and once again, Yuuri and the dogs go to stay with Lilia. She’s still pale and withdrawn, but she wishes Viktor good luck as he gives Makka goodbye kisses. He thanks her and then holds out his arms for Yuuri, who buries his face in Viktor’s chest, clutching him tightly.

“Be safe, Vicchan,” Yuuri mumbles.

“I will, no worry. You practice hard, do well in your shows, okay? I go see it when I come back.”

That draws a laugh out of Yuuri. “You already see it three times!”

“I see it at least three more before the end!”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Go, Vicchan, before Yakov get mad. I watch you on tv when you perform, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I do very good for you. _Proshchay_ , Yuura, Lilia.” Viktor leaves, one final wave before the door shuts behind him, and then it’s off to Beijing. He’s only been there a handful of times, but the city never ceases to amaze him, the culture bright and loud, the glow of the lights, so much like home, but new and different at the same time. The competition itself leaves a lot to be desired, however, at least in Viktor’s mind.

He falls during his short program. Twice.

Through instant messenger that night, Yuuri tries to make him feel better, but Viktor can’t help but feel a little shaken. He can’t recall the last time he fell twice in a competition and it definitely brings his moral down. By the time it’s his turn for the free skate, Viktor is slightly shaken. He makes a last minute adjustment to his costume, the blue, feather-like design glinting in the bright lights. The press of the success talisman that Yuuri had given him for his birthday last year is right over his heart, under the costume; the same place he’s worn it for every competition since he received it.

“Vitya.” He looks up at Yakov, who frowns. “You still have a chance. Remember not to rush the step sequences in the first half, and don’t try to do a loop this time, you silly boy.”

Viktor forces a confident smile, stepping onto the ice and unclipping his skate guards to hand to his coach. “Of course, Coach Yakov! I will float like a bee, jump like a kangaroo, move like-”

Yakov sighs, “Just _go_ , Viktor.”

He laughs, a real one this time, and moves onto the ice, skating around a bit and rotating his shoulders to loosen them before he comes to a stop in his starting position. He takes a deep breath just before the music starts and, unbidden, the image of Yuuri dancing flashes before his eyes.

 _I’ll move like the most graceful of dancers, like Yuuri_ , he thinks.

The image stays, Viktor doing his best to emulate Yuuri’s movements, his beauty, his grace, his musicality. There’s no way he can come close, but he tries anyway, body flowing, hands lights, steps sure, jumps…

The Salchow is perfect. The flip is better. Triple axel, double toe loop combination, a spin here, Ina Bauer…

And then Viktor realizes that the music is winding down, and he can hardly remember following it; his mind had gone blank as the music took over, the motions that he had practiced for so long coming with ease until now, the ending where he brings himself into his finishing pose, chest heaving as he blinks the imagery out of his eyes. He looks around, the thundering noise of the audience cheering surrounding him pressing all of a sudden.

Yakov waits for him at the exit, looking sternly proud as he hands him the skate guards. Of course, he starts his lecture the moment they’re sitting at the kiss and cry, but it hardly matters to Viktor once the score comes in. He’s easily at the top of the board, his free skate making a huge difference after yesterday, and Viktor beams, waving to the crowds.

“You did well, Vitya. You did your country proud,” Yakov says, voice low.

“I did my best, Yasha. I only hope that it’s enough.”

It is. At his very first senior Grand Prix Final, Viktor makes it onto the lowest podium, bronze glinting around his neck. The man on the top, Japanese, congratulates him, and the Canadian on the other side does as well. It’s not easy for him, being on the lowest stand for the first time in a long time, but Viktor tells himself that he made it there, he should be proud no matter what.

Yuuri is proud of him, when they get back, hugging Viktor tightly as he chatters about how good Viktor did, how lovely he looked, and giving him a play-by-play of things he could do to approve on his dancing. Viktor laughs, agreeing, before thanking Lilia for watching Makka and telling her goodbye. She waves him off, grabbing a handkerchief and coughing into it. Viktor pauses at the doorway, watching the cough shake her shoulders, and when the handkerchief comes away, it’s red.

“Lilia-”

“I will be fine, Viktor, go-” The words have hardly left her mouth before another cough comes over her. This time, she doesn’t stop, and slowly sinks to her knees, leaning heavily on the couch.

“Yuuri, call 112,” Viktor says, hurrying over to her and trying to help her sit up. “Lilia, slow breaths, okay, in through the nose…” he keeps up a flow of words, his hands shaking with fear, his voice steady so that Lilia will stay calm. Her shoulders continue to shake with the force of the coughs, and it’s not until the ambulance arrives that Viktor leaves her side. There’s an oxygen mask strapped to her face as they whel her out. One person stays behind, asking Viktor questions that he doesn't know the answer to, until Yakov comes, right behind the gurney leaving with Lilia on it.

“Viktor,” he wheezes, “what happened?”

Viktor tries to explain through numb lips, his words skipping, until it clicks in Yakov’s head and he turns to the man who was asking questions. He tells him that he’s Lilia’s husband and starts answering the questions that Viktor had no idea how to.

That’s when Viktor remembers Yuuri, looking around for him. He and the dogs are cowering in what Viktor assumes is the room he uses when he stays with Lilia. Viktor kneels down in front of him, taking his hands.

“Yuura, you okay?”

Yuuri’s mouth opens, closes, and then he shakes his head. “She is okay, Vicchan?”

“I think so. The people, they get here fast, they can take care of her. I think it has something with her sickness; Yakov talking to them now.”

Yuuri nods, his lip trembling before he starts crying. “I so scared for her! What if she not okay? I never see anything like that…” He hiccoughs and burrows further into VIktor’s arms, shaking.

“I know, it is scary, but Lilia strong! She make it through okay, I promise. We will go to hospital now, _da_? We wait for news for her there. Yasha will take us.”

“You sure, Vicchan?”

“I am sure, Yuura. Yakov worried too. We take dogs home, then we go wait for news, okay?”

Yakov tries to argue with them, but Viktor won’t be swayed. Yuuri is too scared and Viktor is sure that being at the hospital will do more for him than waiting around the house. He only wishes little Vicchan could come with them, but he’s pretty sure the hospital has rules against that. So they spend a few hours in the waiting room, working on classwork that Yuuri insisted upon bringing with them. Yakov is called back at one point, but it’s another couple of hours before he comes back, with Lilia being pushed in a wheelchair in front of him by a nurse.

“Let’s go home, boys, Lilia is tired,” is all he’ll say when asked about what happened, and Lilia says nothing at all. They gather their things and follow them out, Yakov walking ahead to get the car. It’s sitting out front when they get there and Yakov gets out, holding open the passenger door as the nurse helps Lilia get in. She buckles herself in, waving off any further assistance from anyone, and once the boys are buckled in the back, they’re off.

The ride home is silent and, to Viktor’s surprise, they’re driven straight to the house without stopping to drop Lilia off at her apartment. Yuuri is the first out of the car as soon as it’s parked, hurrying around to help Lilia out. She says something quietly to him, and Viktor sees her briefly run her hand over his head before she stands, allowing Yuuri to help her. Viktor says nothing, grabbing both of their backpacks and following the group inside, stomping snow off of his feet.

“Is you hungry, Madame Lilia?” Yuuri asks her once she’s settled in the living room.

“‘Are you hungry’,” Lilia corrects. “And I think everyone needs to eat something, _da_?”

“I make you some soup? Vitya teaches me how to make borscht not long ago.”

The soft smile Lilia gives him is tired, but warm. “Borscht sounds good. Viktor, you go and help him.”

Viktor nods and they leave the two adults alone to talk, or whatever they’re going to do. Apparently whatever was wrong with Lilia isn’t too bad, if she was able to come home already, but the sight of that red handkerchief will not leave him any time soon.

888

And just like that, Lilia is back home. She doesn’t go back to the studio for the rest of the year, spending the weeks between resting. Viktor’s birthday comes and this year, in addition to Yuuri gives him two paper cranes, carefully folded and pressed. Viktor remembers the note from last year, about 1,000 paper cranes, as his fingers carefully trace the edges. When New Years comes, Viktor insists that they follow Japanese traditions this year and so he and Yuuri spend the morning cleaning the house, or at least parts of it, since it’s rather big and Yakov has a maid service come out once a week to actually clean it. They decorate the living room with paper lanterns that Viktor found, strung on red streamers, as well as the _Novogodnaya Yolka_ , which Yuuri insists upon. Yuuri teaches him how to make his favorite soba noodle recipe and they all eat together. Yakov lets them have sparkling wine again, just a glass each, at midnight, then, as a surprise for Yuuri, Viktor brings out a small bell.

Lilia has long since gone to bed, still recovering from her relapse, and Yakov had just shrugged when Viktor had asked about it.

“Now, we ring one hundred and eight times,” Viktor tells Yuuri. He suddenly realizes that Yuuri has grown recently, his head now coming up to Viktor’s chin. “To drive away, ah, how you say-”

“ _Bonnou_ ,” Yuuri says, giggling.

“ _Da_ , _Bonnou_ , and then we ready for new year!”

Yakov leaves as they trade strikes, counting out loud for each one, until all one hundred and eight are done. Yuuri hugs Viktor tightly, the noise of a concert on the tv behind them softly cackling through the box.

“Thank you, Vicchan. This best new years ever.”

Viktor rocks them back and forth slowly, Yuuri’s face tucked into his shoulder. “I do anything to keep you happy, Yuura.” They stay that way, slowly dancing in a circle in the living room, until Yuuri’s grip begins to loosen at his back. “Come, it is bedtime,” Viktor whispers. Yuuri lets out an adorable little hum, his hands tightening reflexively before loosening again. Viktor doesn’t let him go, just moves with him to bed, not bothering to deal with turning stuff off just yet; the moment feels fragile, so delicate that one wrong will shatter it to pieces.

Yuuri moves easily with him, up the stairs, but when it comes to leading him to his room, Yuuri puts up the first sign of resistance. “I stay with you tonight?” he asks, blinking owlishly up at Viktor.

Viktor smiles softly down at him. “Okay, Yuura, we will go to my room.”

Yuuri falls into the bed with a soft thump, curled under the covers and yawning. Viktor goes back to the living room to turn off the last light and the tv before joining him.

888

January, filled with sponsor obligations and practice, quickly fades to February and the European Championships. They’re held in Budapest to a roaring crowd that Viktor is eager to please. He beat out most of these competitors in the Grand Prix Final and he’s worked hard to be even better this time.

It works; he comes away with his first gold medal at the European Championships on the senior circuit. In his arms, he holds a bouquet of red flowers, each individually wrapped, which almost matches the blue rose flower crown he wears. He’s just exiting the rink when a voice calls out to him from the stands were other competitors are waiting.

“Hi Viktor! Congratulations!” The boy yelling for him is chubby cheeked, eyes bright, with blonde curls on his head as he stares at Viktor with awe.

“Hello!” Viktor calls back, waving. “And what is your name?”

“Christophe Giacometti!” the boy says.

Viktor lets out a chuckle, taking one of the flowers from his arms and tossing it up to him. “Here! See you at Worlds!” The look on the boy’s face is priceless as he clutches the flower to his chest.

“Th-thank you,” Christophe says. Yakov takes his arm, leading his to a cluster of reporters, where Viktor is forced into interview after interview before he’s able to get to the locker room. He hates having to do them, despite knowing they’re necessary; he mostly just wants to wash off the sweat from skating and lay down after a competition.

But Yuuri is waiting on instant messenger to tell him how proud he is of Viktor and that more than makes up being forced to answer the same questions over and over again.

February stays busy as the build up to the World Championships adds more pressure to Viktor’s shoulders. Can he stay on the top, tabloids wonder? Can he keep up with the older and more experienced skaters? Or will he fall, like so many before, under the keen eye of a blood thirsty, fickle crowd.

March in Germany is a little warmer than March in Russia, but it hardly matters to Viktor, because Lilia has let Yuuri come with him this time. She’s been steadily improving, returning to the studio just after they returned from the European Championships, and Viktor imagines that part of the reason she agreed was so that Yuuri could get out of the house, having been cooped up out of worry for Lilia. They explore Dortmund together, trying the foods and finding the weirdest souvenirs possible to bring back home.

Christophe Giacometti is there again, this time in the same hotel, and after he introduces him to Yuuri, they all go out together before the event. It’s fun, having a new friend to talk to, and by the end of the day, they exchange email addresses, with a promise to keep in touch.

The World Championships loom, but Yuuri is by his side the whole time, looking at him like he hung the moon. Viktor never wants that look to fade.

He wins silver at the World Championships by two points. Yuuri tells him how proud he is and it’s like he won gold instead.

April is cold and wet in Russia, but May is warmer, and with it comes a spring skating camp, which Yakov has not held in the past few years. He asks Viktor for his help, as one of the older skaters, and Viktor agrees easily enough. It’s usually fun to work with younger skaters, helping them correct their jumps and point out things that will hopefully help them improve in time.

Three days before the first day of camp, one of the helpers backs out at the last minute, leaving Yakov floundering for someone to help.

“I help, Yakov-san,” Yuuri says when Yakov hangs up the phone with a last ditch effort to get someone to help.

“What?”

“I can help, you teach me lot in the past year, I pay you back by helping at skate camp.”

Yakov blinks, frowning at the boy, who, Viktor is startled to see, is nearly as tall as Yakov already. “It’s a lot of work, Yuuri, and you still have your lessons with Lilia.”

“I talk to her already, she say we work it out. Please, I want to help.” Yakov is apparently as powerless against those eyes as Viktor is, because he sighs out his agreement and sits down with Yuuri to outline his duties. The next morning, the three of them load up in the car and drive to where the camp is being held and begin setting up. The kids will be arriving later today and everything needs to be set up for registering the kids and getting them settled into their bed space, though they won’t be taking part of that. They tag along with Yakov as he goes to inspect the rink, the bunks, the locker rooms. Slowly throughout the day, the sound of kids grows louder and louder as more and more arrive.

“There are some international students as well, so try to use English as much as possible,” Yakov says. “Vitya, you will be helping with the older kids. Don’t get cocky, you’ll be working under me. Yuura, you will be helping with the younger kids. For the most part, this will be their first camp and a lot of them will be nervous. You will be working under Irina.” He points out a woman several years younger than him, but still much older than Yuuri, who moves with almost as much grace as Lilia. Yuuri goes over to meet her, and Viktor watches as his shy friend extends his hand to the woman nervously. He’s never been good with meeting new people, though Lilia keeps telling him to get used to it if he’s ever going to be _principle dansuer_.

“Yakov, why can’t Yuuri and I work together?” Viktor whines.

“You spend too much time together as it is, it’ll be good for him to be around people who aren’t you or those cut-throat dancers at the studio,” Yakov grunts in reply. Viktor continues whining, mostly to annoy Yakov up until the point when it’s time for introductions.

The kids all find seats in the cafeteria they’re using for an auditorium for this part, the noise a low rumble until one of the teachers comes to the front and hushes them. Yakov goes out first, greeting them and telling them what will be expected of them and what they should, under no circumstances, do if they want to stay in the program. Then he goes through introductions, naming each of the teachers and what group they’ll be working with, and then the helpers. When Viktor is called out to stage, whispers break out across the group. He smiles charmingly at them as Yakov calls for quiet.

“Viktor is here to help you, not to sign autographs,” he adds, giving the room a stern look. Yuuri, standing with his group, gives him a look; Viktor winks at him. Finally, Yakov ends the meeting, telling the kids to meet up with their age groups for some introduction games before they eat dinner.

Yuuri’s group is the 7-9 year olds; Viktor’s is the 13-14 year olds. Almost all of them are looking at him eagerly, hardly listening to what Yakov is telling them, but Viktor finds his gaze wandering most of the time, typically over to Yuuri. He looks so tall around the younger kids, but his face is flushed and he’s smiling widely at them as they play a game.

“Vitya.” Viktor’s attention snaps back to his coach, smiling beautifically.

“Yes, Coach Yakov?”

Yakov sighs, forever long suffering with his airheaded student. “Everyone is introducing themselves and telling the group where they live.”

“Hi everyone! My name is Viktor Nikiforov, I am figure skater from the great land of Saint Petersburg!” This prompts a few giggles from the group and a glare from Yakov.

“Now that you know all of our names, why don’t each of you introduce yourselves, tell us where you came from, how old you are, and what jump is your favorite?”

There are several older students, so it takes a while, which is why Viktor will tell Yakov that it’s not his fault that he kept getting distracted. After dinner, the kids are sent off to the bunk rooms and Viktor wanders off to find Yuuri and is surprised to find him talking animatedly to a young boy. He looks only a few years younger, with darker skin and a wide smile. He’s showing Yuuri something in his hand and, upon closer inspection, is revealed to be a digital camera.

“Vicchan, come look, Phichit-kun has pictures of hamsters!” Yuuri calls, waving him over.

The boy, who Viktor guesses is Phichit, turns that bright smile to Viktor. “This is Hamilton, Hamburg, and Harry,” he says, pointing to the three little hamsters on the screen. He chatters about his hamsters and how much he misses them and how he hopes his older sister remembers to feed them and how he hopes his younger brother doesn't let them out of their cage. He never stares up at Viktor like he’s some kind of god, the way the older kids had, and chats unselfconsciously seemingly about whatever pops into his head. But Yuuri looks delighted by it and Viktor does anything he can to keep that smile on Yuuri’s face, so he watches the whole slideshow on Phichit’s camera.

“Lights out is soon,” Irina calls, and they suddenly realize that the tables are all cleaned and they’re the last ones around. Viktor calls back that they’ll be out in a minute and the three of them stand, Yuuri thanking Phichit for showing him the pictures. They part ways at the bunk room Phichit is staying in, then head to the area where Viktor and Yuuri are staying. Their rooms are doubles instead of the open rooms the kids are in, but they’re not sharing a room. Viktor is pretty sure that Yakov is to blame for that, but he knows that Yakov is also trying to get Yuuri out of his shell, so he doesn’t complain. At least not to Yakov.

“I do not want to sleep, you are so far from me,” Viktor whines, leaning heavily on Yuuri and making him stagger. “Yuuuuuuriiiiii, Yasha is so cruel!”

Yuuri just laughs, righting himself and nudging Viktor over. “He says we need to make friends, so we make friends. We still work together this week, Vicchan.”

“I know, but also not together. You are so far away.” Viktor pouts as they stop outside the door of Yuuri’s room so that he can collect his toothbrush and paste before doing the same outside of Viktor’s room.

“See, Vicchan, not far from my room to yours,” Yuuri points out, but Viktor still pouts all the way to the restroom and back. Yuuri tells him he looks silly pouting with a toothpaste foam around his lips, so Viktor pouts harder to make him laugh.

It becomes the routine for that week. Viktor gets up, then goes to wake Yuuri, who tends to sleep in if he’s able to, they get ready for the day, eat breakfast, then spend hours working with their groups. There’s something new they do each day, but nothing beats watching Yuuri skating around the ice and helping the little kids with this and that. By the end of the week, they all stare up at him with looks of pure admiration on their faces and, yeah, Viktor thinks that’s about the cutest thing ever. He’s not a skater, but he moves on the ice the same way he does when he dances, a fluid grace, so occasionally, Yakov will have him demonstrate step sequences or ways to move more gracefully. Of course, those are Viktor’s favorite times.

And after dinner, Yuuri is usually found with Phichit. Viktor typically ends up tagging along at some point, after hanging with a few of the older helpers. He learns a few things about Phichit during that time, like how he’s one of the international students, all the way from Thailand. His father is a diplomat, which is why he speaks English so well. He really likes animals and positively coos when Yuuri brings out his own digital camera and shows off pictures of their dogs. Phichit started skating at young age and he tells them one night that he hopes to be as famous as Viktor one day, in hopes that it will show other Thai people that ice skating can be fun. It’s the only time he mentions Viktor’s fame and his opinion of the boy grows exponentially then.

At the end of the week, Yuuri and Phichit have exchanged email addresses, and Yuuri promises to mail Phichit some of the Russian candy that he likes. Viktor quietly offers to autograph something for Phichit; he’s not supposed to, and has turned down anybody who has asked, but Phichit…

Phichit is the only other person who has made Yuuri smile as much as Viktor does, and Yuuri obviously really likes him. Viktor does to, and wants to show it in some small way.

“No, thank you, I know you’re not supposed to,” Phichit says, flashing one of his blinding smiles.

“No, but you are a friend, I would not tell.”

“How about you send me more pictures of your dog and we call it even?” Phichit offers.

That draws a laugh from Viktor as a tightness in his chest that he had realized was there loosened. “Okay, only if you send pictures of your hamsters.”

“Deal! Oh, before I leave, will you take a picture of me and Yuuri together?” He holds out his camera hopefully and Viktor takes it without hesitation.

“Yuuri, come over, Phichit wants to take picture with you!” Viktor yells over the din. Everyone is saying their goodbyes, promising to write and such, and Yuuri is in the middle of a group of his kids, telling them goodbye and promising to watch their careers when they get old enough to compete. He waves at Viktor, _just a minute_ , before carefully extracting himself from them to make his way over.

“Phichit-kun, are you leaving?” he asks breathlessly when he gets close enough. His cheeks are flushed and he’s smiling so widely that Vitkor finds himself unable to look away.

“Yeah, I was just telling Viktor goodbye and he said he would take a picture of us together, do you mind?”

“Oh, yes, we should!” The two of them pose together and Viktor takes a several pictures, making them do silly faces and stuff until they’re both red from laughter. Yuuri makes him promise to send him copies of them before Phichit hugs him tightly. Yuuri looks surprised for a moment, because as far as Viktor knows, he’s the only one who regularly touches Yuuri with affection, but it’s only a moment before he’s hugging Phichit back.

And then Phichit’s ride is here and he’s gone and they’re left standing alone in the half-empty cafeteria. “Come on, we should pack,” Viktor says, reaching out for Yuuri’s hand and tugging on it.

“I did last night, Vicchan,” Yuuri says, rolling his eyes.

Viktor pouts. “Then you help me, _da_?”

“So lazy.” Yuuri laughs, allowing himself to be tugged along. He helps Viktor anyway and they load everything up in the car before Yakov can yell at them to. Yuuri falls asleep on the way home, his head rolling onto Viktor’s shoulder.

There’s nothing left to do but train in the off season, because Yuuri is going back to Japan for a month again this summer and there will be no one for Viktor to hang out with, save for maybe a few of the older skaters. Viktor holds onto the moments he has left with his best friend before summer comes and who knows what changes will come with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone can say anything, is the way Viktor handled Yuuri's breakdown the right way? No, probably not. Am I recommending that you do that to someone? No, not unless you know the person well enough that you know for sure that it will help. Do I want to hear complaints about it? No, no I do not. It's that way for a reason.
> 
> So do you know what happens when you miss seven weeks of work and you come back just before the holidays? 
> 
> You get slammed because it's the holidays and then you have to make up for missing seven weeks of work after that. I blame that, plus the, frankly, huge chapter that wanted to take forever to come out. Ugh. So much research that I did, and yet, I still botched the age thing. Oops...
> 
> As always, a ginormous THANK YOU to idc_chan, who, every time I whined about a one shot I wanted to write, would say "I'm obligated to nag you until you get the next chapter of the ballet fic done." 
> 
> I'm aiming to get the next one out within the next two or three weeks, because after that is the busy season at one of my jobs and I've got a wedding to deal with (not mine, thank fuck) around that same time. Prayer circle for my sanity. The good news is that the next chapter is at least half plotted out!


	4. Year Three: 2005-2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happened about three times during the writing of this chapter  
> characters: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> me: wait, what  
> characters: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> me: what are you doing that's not what's supposed to happen  
> characters: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> me: ...... -sigh- I'll work with it, I guess...
> 
> LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I TRIED TO UPDATE LAST NIGHT AND AO3 WASN'T HAVING IT. Also, we're moving into the angst territory, because I can't not write a big fic and not have angst, much to the detriment of sedatedartist.
> 
> Edit, because a lot of people, myself included, are confused about the boy's ages: In the beginning of this chapter, Viktor is 17 and Yuuri is 14. At the end of the chapter, Viktor is 18 and Yuuri is 15.

“Yuuuuuuuuuuuriiiiiiiii, I miss you so much!” Viktor cries, practically throwing himself onto his small friend, who staggers slightly before wrapping his arms around Viktor in return.

“Vicchan, I was only gone a month!” Yuuri says with a laugh, but he clings just as tightly as Viktor, so he counts that as a win. Viktor doesn’t let go as he leads them to where Yakov is patiently waiting, just outside the crowds of people hugging and greeting each other enthusiastically.

“Hello, Yakov-san! Was Vicchan good while I was gone?” Yuuri asks, earning a pinch from Viktor.

“Yuuuuuuri, you are so mean!”

“He was insufferable,” Yakov grumbles, which is completely untrue, Viktor is a model student and house mate, but Yuuri nods solemnly as though this is obvious.

“Oh, Vicchan, I went skating more this summer! Yuu-chan, she show me how to do Ina Bauer! I manage to do last day, I show you picture when we get home.”

The drive to the house is filled with stories about Yuuri’s hometown, and then Viktor tells Yuuri about what he did, though he doesn’t mention the few times he’d gone out with some of the other skaters. He’s still trying to keep himself as a good role model in Yuuri’s eyes and knowing that Viktor spent several nights out drinking and partying is not the way to do that.

Not to mention the few times he had gone home with someone. He doesn’t know why he’s done it, just that there had been something missing, some hole in his heart, and Yev… Yev made it sound like fun, which is was. It was fun and interesting, fumbling his way through learning sex as more than something in a textbook, and yet, it did nothing to soothe his loneliness, the tired aching feel deep in his chest.

For some reason, he definitely does not want Yuuri to know about that part, even more so than the drinking.

When they get to the house, Yuuri is immediately accosted by the dogs, and he stops to give them love for several minutes until they manage to calm down somewhat. Then, with Viktor trailing behind him, Yuuri drops his bags in his room and goes to greet Lilia, who has improved a lot since she first collapsed back in December, and Yuuri tells her that she looks better than she did before he left.

“Thank you, Yuuri. My doctors are in agreement with you,” she says. “I hope that Minako has kept you working throughout this summer?”

“ _Da_ , Madame, she has been working with me for my pirouette and I was able to do Ina Bauer on ice one day.” Yuuri’s face is solemn, but his voice is laced with audible excitement. “I have picture taken by friend, Yuu-chan. You would like to see?”

Lilia nods and Yuuri hurries back to his room to grab his camera while Viktor makes his way across the room and falls gracelessly onto the couch.

“Sit up, Viktor, you are not a wild animal,” Lilia tells him. It’s grating, to still be treated like a child, but Viktor does as he’s told, a petulant look on his face. “That is not a beautiful face.”

“Lilia, I’m a grown man-”

“Hardly.”

“-I shouldn’t be told to sit up!”

“If you are so grown, you would know to sit up instead of sprawling across the cushions. Maintaining your posture is important throughout your whole life, and particularly as you age.”

Yuuri’s arrival, eyes intent on the camera as he flips through the pictures, stops whatever retort Viktor may have had. “Oh, here it is, see?” He passes it to Lilia, who nearly looks impressed.

“Was this on the outside edge or inside edge?” She passes the camera to Yakov as he enters the room and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“Only inside edge, I not practiced enough for outside edge. My friend Yuu-chan, she is also skater, she showed me how to do it and I work at it all month.”

“I maintain you would have been an excellent skater, Yuuri,” Yakov says, finally handing Viktor the camera, which he has been making grabby hands at for at least a minute, which, rude.

Yuuri is elegant in the picture, his back arched almost perfectly, his head bent a good ways back as he glides on the ice, and he’s wearing the skates that Viktor had gotten for him. Viktor can’t wait to see this in person, and he tells Yuuri that. Yuuri just blushes waving it off, but Yakov mentions it as well and Viktor knows Yuuri is as good as sold on the idea. It won’t be for a few days, to give him time to adjust to the new timezone, but it’s going to happen.

After a promise of dinner being ready soon, the two of them retreat back to Yuuri’s room so that he can start unpacking. Viktor flops onto the bed next to the suitcase Yuuri had set there earlier and watches Yuuri unzip it as both of their dogs jump up and lay next to him. Yuuri throws the few dirty clothes he has into his hamper and sighs as he starts dragging the clean ones out.

“What is it, Yuura?”

“I always sad when the smell of home gets washed away,” Yuuri says. “I miss it.”

For the first time in a long time, Viktor wonders what it’s like to miss home, to have a home _to_ miss. It’s not a pleasant feeling; he imagines it’s something like how he feels when there’s no one but Yakov there to congratulate him on winning, when he tries to talk to his old friends and never gets an answer, when Yuuri leaves… leaves to go home.

“Maybe we get Japanese laundry detergent and see if it helps?” Viktor offers.

Yuuri laughs, shaking his head and picking up a shirt. Something tumbles out of it and Viktor reaches to grab it before it can fall. Upon examination, he realizes that it’s a wooden elephant, designs carved into its sides.

“Oh, thank you for grabbing, Vicchan-” Little Vicchan, from his spot on the bed, lets out a yip, and Yuuri laughs, reaching out to stroke his ears. “Thank you, Vitya, I do not want it to break.”

“Where did you get this?”

“You remember Phichit, from the skate camp? He send it to me from Thailand while I was home! I send him some thing from Japan, too. Oh, and I bring your favorite candies, Vitya,” he adds, digging around in his second bag before producing the candy. He throws it at Viktor, laughing when Viktor fails to catch it and it smacks him in the chest. “Phichit also send candy, but I am not going to share with you.”

“Yuuuuuuriiiiiii,” Viktor whines, flopping down dramatically. “Why am I friends with you? You always so cruel, my Yuuri!”

Yuuri just keeps laughing at him, tugging his suitcase down and _finally_ joining Viktor and the dogs on the bed. “I have miss you, Vicchan,” he sighs, wiggling close to Viktor and letting out a yawn. He tucks his head into Viktor shoulder, wrapping his arm around Viktor’s waist as Viktor wraps one around his shoulders.

“I miss you, too, Yuura. Sleep for little while, I wake you up for dinner.”

Yuuri just hums, eyes already closed.

888

The days following Yuuri’s return, Viktor notices an odd quietness about him. It’s not odd in itself that Yuuri is quiet, because his friend usually is around almost everyone but Viktor. With Viktor, he’s vibrant and talkative and happy. He doesn’t think it’s anything he’s _done_ , because Yuuri still hangs around him, but Yuuri keeps shooting Viktor these glances, then looking away quickly as though he hopes that Viktor won’t notice. It doesn’t matter, really; Viktor notices everything when it comes to Yuuri.

“Yuuri, you braid my hair tonight?” he asks, a couple of weeks later.

“Yes, Vicchan, let me finish homework first, _hai_? I am almost done,” Yuuri says, not looking up from his books. Viktor sits on the bed, making kissy faces at little Vicchan while he waits. Makka is sprawled out on there as well, but doesn’t move much, harrumphing at him from a distance. His dog is spoiled as it is, he just wants to pet Vicchan for a little while. Plus, Vicchan will play with him when Makka is being lazy.

True to his word, Yuuri finishes up quickly and settles on the bed behind Viktor, reaching for the hair tie around his wrist before he starts brushing out Viktor’s long hair.They sit in silence, enjoying the comforting movements, until Yuuri finally speaks up.

“Vitya, have you ever kiss someone?”

Viktor chokes on his spit. His mind flashes to this summer, bodies tangled together, heat and dark and wet… “What?”

“Have you ever kiss someone? Yuu-chan, she tells me that Nishigori-san, he also is at the ice rink, he kiss her this last winter. No one ever kiss me, so I wonder what it is like."

A part of Viktor is inordinately pleased to hear that no one has ever kissed Yuuri before, but he shoves that to the back of his mind and focuses on the question itself. "Ah, yes, Yuura, I have kiss a few people."

"What is it like?" Yuuri asks.

How does one explain such a thing? Viktor is hardly a poet able to spew pretty flowing descriptors. "Uhm. It is... wet? It take getting used to, and you are not always sure where to put your head."

"That does not like sound like fun." Viktor can practically hear the wrinkle of Yuuri's nose at that and laughs.

"It is; it can be. I think it is better if you have feelings for person first."

Yuuri stays silent at that, finishing off the braid and tying it off. Viktor feels the heavy thump of the hair tie against his back when Yuuri lets it go and finally turns to look at him. "Are you curious, Yuura?"

"Are most people not?" Viktor nods at that, because, yes, most people probably are. "But no one want to kiss me, so I guess I wait to find out."

Viktor's heart is pounding in his chest, so loud that surely Yakov can hear it all the way downstairs, but he forces his voice to stay calm. "If you want to try, I can kiss you."

"What?" Yuuri's eyes are wide and his cheek are tinged pink; Viktor can feel his own heating up.

"Never mind, is silly-"

"If you want-"

“I do not want you being uncomfortable, Yuura."

Yuuri frowns at him, his cheeks still pink. "I ask you an uncomfortable question, it is okay to ask one back." They're silent for long seconds before, "Do you want to kiss me?"

Viktor licks his lips nervously and Yuuri's eyes track the movement before returning to stare him in the eyes again. "I do if you are wanting me to kiss you."

Yuuri sighs irritably at his non-answer and finally leans forward, eyes closing and lips puckering exaggeratedly. It's like those silly teen movies that Viktor loves; he might as well go along with the cliche. He cups Yuuri's face with one hand and leans in, brushing his lips softly over Yuuri's, which part in surprise, softening enough that Viktor can lean in and really kiss him. He keeps it soft, not deepening the kiss, but the feel of Yuuri's hot breath ghosting over his lips sends heat rushing through Viktor's stomach and he can't help but press closer. He feels Yuuri’s breath hitch as one of his hands comes up to grab Viktor’s shoulder, palm hot through the fabric of his soft sleep shirt, and he presses closer, knocking them slightly off balance and breaking their lips apart.

Yuuri leans back, his breath coming a little quicker as he looks at Viktor, his eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed. “That was…”

Viktor’s heart is still racing, pulse pounding in his ears. Yuuri’s lips aren’t red and swollen like stories tend to say, but they are darker and a little damp and that. That _does things_ to Viktor’s stomach. “I hope I make your first kiss good,” Viktor finally manages to say.

Yuuri beams at him, shyness at the edge of his lips. “You are very good at kissing. Thank you for showing me, Vitya.”

“You welcome, Yuuri. Ah, I go to bed now, uh, early practicing tomorrow.” Viktor fumbles through his excuse and hurries out of Yuuri’s room and goes into his own. He hardly has the mind to tell Makka to go to her own bed before he gets under his covers and shoves his hand down his pants to grasp his hard cock. He’s jerked off before of course, has a hearty teenage appitite for it, usually prefers lazy movements and a slow build up, but today is fast and rough and _it’s all just from kissing_ Yuuri. It’s his face in Viktor’s mind, the memory of his lips against Viktor’s, the phantom feel of his breath, the sound of his breath hitching…

Viktor comes in his underwear in an embarrassingly short time and lays there for several minutes trying to catch his breath. Once he does, the reality of what he’s done sets in, because he just jerked off to the memory of kissing his best friend! There are rules against this, he’s pretty sure, and how will he ever be able to look Yuuri in the eye again?

Shame wells inside him as he forces himself to get up and clean off, calling Makka to join him, which she does after giving him a judging look. He sighs, petting her absently as he tries to go to sleep. He’ll just act like nothing happened tomorrow and Yuuri will never have to know.

 _Yeah_ , he decides. _No one will ever have to know._

888

Surprisingly, it’s not difficult to hide what he had done. Yuuri is too sleepy in the mornings to really notice anything off and by the time the afternoon rolls around, Viktor has buried the memory deep enough that he manages to pass his blush off simply as working hard on the ice. The sound of a late summer rainstorm gives the rink a hushed kind of silence and Viktor hopes that his plans for later won’t be ruined because of it.

“Vicchan!” Yuuri calls, waving him over after he laces up his skates and steps onto the ice. Yakov is there to take his skate guards and he keeps his eyes on Yuuri.

“Yuura! I did not know you coming today!”

“ _Da_ , I am here to show you and Yakov-san the Ina Bauer. You can help me with pointers?”

“Of course!” They skate a few laps together so Yuuri can warm up his muscles. Viktor is frequently glad that Lilia eventually gave up trying to keep Yuuri off the ice and now tells him that it will help build up his leg muscles for ballet. She joins him at the rink sometimes, even, something that had become rare before she had fallen ill the previous year.

“Okay, I am ready,” Yuuri calls to Yakov, who nods at him. They both watch carefully as Yuuri skates off a bit and fluidly falls into the move as he gets closer. His head dips backwards, his back arched just so, his skates in good formation. Overall, it looks good and he only requires a few pointers. Yakov laments later to Viktor how he wishes Yuuri had been a skater instead, but Viktor can’t see him as anything but a dancer, soft and firm and full of grace.

Yakov teaches him how to do a sit spin and Viktor shows him how to do a spread eagle that, after some practice, Yuuri will be able to combine with his Ina Bauer.

“We make a skater out of you one of these days,” Viktor laughs, ruffling Yuuri’s hair fondly.

“Do not let Madame Lilia hear you say that,” Yuuri shoots back, laughing as well. It’s an old joke by now, because everyone know Yuuri loves dancing too much to ever really considering being a skater. Viktor splits his attention between helping Yuuri and choreographing a step sequence for the new routine he’s working on for the next season. It’s not quite right, but Yuuri is able to help him with the movements, and they work together until Yakov calls them off the ice.

“Yuuri, I have surprise for you,” Viktor says, tugging him away from Yakov, who waves them off before getting into his car and leaving.

“Vicchan, what-”

“Come, come to the park, I have surprise!” He eagerly pulls on Yuuri, tugging him around the building. The rain has petered off by now, a slight mist still hanging that makes the air humid and warm. The park Viktor leads him to isn’t far away; Viktor leads Yuuri to a far corner and he’s pleased to see that the lanterns he had paid some friends to hang up are still there, their lights glowing. People, friends, are lingering around and Katya waves as she turns on some music. Yuuri starts at what is obviously at least somewhat familiar sound and looks at Viktor with wide eyes.

“Vicchan, what…”

“ _Awa Odori_ , Dance Festival, _da_?” Viktor’s body feels tight with nerves as he tries to read Yuuri’s expression. “I look up information at the library, they say this happens mid-August, around this time. I know we do not know the real steps, but I thinking we could still celebrate? Make it feel like home to you, a little?”

Yuuri buries his face in Viktor’s shirt, but not before he glimpses the tears in Yuuri’s eyes. He wraps his arms around him and lets him work through his emotions, sliding out of Viktor’s embrace once he’s composed himself.

“You make a festival just for me?” he asks, voice still shaky.

“I do not want you to be missing home and sad. This is okay?”

“It is perfect,” Yuuri says, and this time, he throws his arms around Viktor’s neck, hugging him tightly.

Viktor hugs back and then pulls Yuuri to where everyone else is. Yuuri shows them some movies, and it turns into a bit of a game. All of them have taken dance classes, and many have shared a few classes with Yuuri, so they all move together easily, but that doesn’t stop the teasing and gentle shoves that comes with not having a strict teacher bearing down on them. Sasha and Misha, their twin brown eyes twinkling mischievously, broke off first, moving in a slow, exaggerated waltz when the song changed. Their movements didn’t match the beat, but that just made it funnier, and soon others were breaking off, moving to different beats, different steps, but everyone still laughing at the fun of it all.

Yuuri ends up next to him, breathless from laughter and dancing, his eyes sparkling and mouth turned up widely. “Come on, Vitya, you dance with me now!” It doesn’t take anything at all for Yuuri to drag him in the midst of the dancing, though it’s definitely more western style than eastern. They move together, dance, laugh, and the rosiness of Yuuri’s cheeks reminds him of the day before, of the feel of Yuuri’s lips, and the shame of Viktor’s actions afterwards. He stumbles back slightly, letting go of Yuuri to hop up on a park bench. Yuuri laughs at his antics as Viktor playfully dances up there, anything to put a little distance between them for the moment.

His foot twists on the wet bench, catching on one of the slats of the bench and Viktor hears a scream, feels pain, and then there’s nothing but black.

888

The lights are bright when Viktor opens his eyes. He groans, pushing at the hands holding him, but a firm voice tells him, “Sir, you can’t move, you may have injured your neck when you fell.”

Fell? Was he at a competition? He didn’t, _couldn’t_ , remember. The ground beneath him was warm, it couldn’t be ice, the air all around him was warm and he… he was outside? The light finally moved away from his eyes and he blinked, staring up at the stormy clouds in the sky.

“Viktor, you have to stay still,” someone says. Now that he’s a bit more awake, he can hear crying as well, soft sobs, and when he tries to turn to look, he’s once again stopped.

“Mr. Nikiforov, please, you cannot move. We won’t know the extent of your injury until we get you to the hospital, I must ask you not to move around until we know more.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, suddenly remembering that he brought Yuuri here, they were dancing, he… he had hurt himself? “Yuuri, is Yuuri okay, please, you have to-”

“I here, Vicchan,” he hears, Yuuri’s voice cut through with tears. “I okay, you- you go to hospital, I see you there.”

“Natalya, take him to the hospital, please, take care of him,” Viktor says as they finish strapping him down and carefully load him onto a gurney.

“I’ll take him there, don’t worry,” he hears her call back and lets out a breath of relief.

“Oh, call Yakov for me, please!” Viktor adds, just before the doors shut. He doesn’t hear her reply this time, but he’s pretty sure she heard him.

He frets all the way to the hospital, because they won’t tell him anything and Yuuri sounded so upset and he’s in a lot of pain. His head is throbbing and his entire left leg hurts and so does his left foot and he’s pretty sure he’s also at least got some scratches on his left arm, though that’s the least painful part of all the many painful parts he has.

They take him immediately into the back and doctors converge on him. They’re talking too fast for his brain to catch up and it’s not long before they’re taking him back to get an x-ray. Or rather, several x-ray’s, up and down his left side. Once those are done, he’s taken back into a room, where a nurse sets up an IV line in his arm. He tries, a few times, to ask what’s going on, but no one is really giving him any answers.

“Mr. Nikiforov, what is the number for your legal guardian? We need to get in contact with them concerning your treatment here,” someone says, hovering slightly over his face. The lights are bright when you’re forced directly up at them all the time, Viktor finds. He rattles off Yakov’s number, just in case Natalya _didn’t_ hear him, and then he’s left alone again. The medicine is starting to kick in and he’s gone from “pain everywhere” to throbbing now and his eyes drift shut.

“Vitya, are you okay,” Yakov says suddenly, startling him from his doze badly.

“Yasha, Yasha, I-”

“Vitya-” His face is hovering over Viktor’s now, face creased with worry as he looks him over. “Vitya, don’t move, they’re taking care of you.”

“Yasha, where is Yuuri, is he okay-”

Yakov sighs in exasperation. “Of course you would worry about him when you’re in the hospital. He’s fine, Vitya, just shaken. They’ll let him come back after they get you checked into a room.”

“A room?”

“It will likely only be overnight,” Yakov attempts to soothe. “You’ve got a concussion as well has a fractured wrist, a severely sprained ankle, and a torn tendon in your foot. Thankfully, you’ve only strained your knee or you would be out for good! You silly boy, what were you doing? You’ll be out for at _least_ this season, if not longer!”

Tears gather at the corners of his eyes at that. Out for the season? Maybe longer? Will Viktor ever be able to skate again? “Yasha, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was playing- the bench was wet-”

Yakov sighs and runs his hand through Viktor’s hair. “I know, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out. Just get some rest; they’ll move you as soon as a room becomes free.”

“Yuuri-”

“I’m sure he won’t leave your side even once you get home.”

888

And, true to his word, Yuuri doesn’t. He stays beside Viktor through the night and is constantly getting him water or calling for the nurse or just hovering at Viktor’s bedside. It doesn’t change when they get the house, Yuuri rolling Viktor’s wheelchair in, since he won’t be able to start using crutches until his wrist heals. Both palms are scratched up anyway, so Viktor doesn’t really want to think about putting pressure on them just yet. Yakov and Lilia have already moved some of Viktor’s things into Lilia’s downstairs bedroom; Viktor guesses that they’re going to be sleeping together again. It’s been a long time, but the fighting seems to be less now that it has been in years.

Yuuri and Yakov both help Viktor get from the wheelchair to the bed and it’s only once he’s comfortably propped up that he pats the bed next to him. Yuuri sits there gingerly while Yakov leaves, citing a need to get started on dinner, even though he stopped by a fast food restaurant on their way home and even let them eat in the car.

“Yuuri-”

“I so sorry, Viktor! I not mean to hurt you, I so sorry, I try to catch, I-” Yuuri blurts out, his words half broken and rushed.

“Yuura, what are you talking about? I was being silly, I hurt myself.” His concussion hadn’t been _that_ severe, had it? He certainly hadn’t remembered Yuuri doing anything that would hurt him.

“You up on bench to show moves, it my fault, stupid festival, I-”

“Yuuri!” Viktor snaps, grateful when Yuuri stops talking and turns his tearful gaze to Viktor. That look shoot deep into his soul and he hates himself for being the cause of Yuuri’s worry. “Yuuri, none of it was your fault. I should have been more careful, the bench was being slippery, it was not your fault.”

“But-”

“No buts, Yuuri, this was all my fault.” Yuuri still doesn’t look convinced, but that’s okay, Viktor will get through to him at some point. He tugs him closer, wrapping his arm firmly around Yuuri’s shoulders until he finally lays his head on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Vitya?”

“Hm?”

“Can… can I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course.”

This is the first time that Yuuri has asked to stay the night with Viktor in a long time and that warm fuzzy feeling he gets in his chest comes back tenfold. They watch movies on the tv, Yuuri only occasionally asking about words; his Russian is very good now, so much so that Viktor decides that they should start speaking it more now at the house, since they’re both so much better at English now. Though, he probably could work more on his Japanese, especially now that…

Now that Viktor won’t be competing this year.

The mood in the room drops palpably at this thought and he feels Yuuri shift nervously next to him. Viktor tries to shove the thoughts out of mind, and manages to succeed with a great effort. Instead, he thinks of Yuuri, of the kiss not that long ago. It had changed him, in some way that Viktor is still trying to figure out. Yuuri has always been at the forefront of his mind since the first time they saw each other, but now, it’s like the idea of him has… it’s _grown_ , shedding new light on his friend.

Friend. Is that all they are? They spend almost all of their free time together, they help each other with school work and practice and, well, kissing, apparently. When had this happened, this marvelously warm feeling in his chest? Had it snuck up on him, or had it always been so? He had been enamoured by Yuuri from the first time he saw him dance, it was true, but this, this _feeling_ , is so much more than that. He thinks about Yuuri, his softness, his eagerness to help, to show Viktor new things, to learn, the way he smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle, the way he laughs with his whole body, the way-

The way he looks at Viktor, like he’s the sun, bright and golden, spreading warmth that will encompass Yuuri wholly. Is this… Is this love?

Viktor isn’t familiar with love. His parents never seemed to care and he knows that he holds affection for Yakov and Lilia, and that they do for him as well, but it’s nothing like this. This is something totally new and it scares Viktor as much as he treasures it. He looks down at Yuuri, snuggled against him and looking completely relaxed and at home in his arms.

If this is love, Viktor decides, he’s going to hold onto it for as long as he’s able to. He pulls Yuuri in tighter and _breathes_.

888

Being injured, particularly when you’re a teenager who is used to a competitive athletes workout routine and just moving around a lot in general, is just god awful. It takes Viktor exactly two days after coming home from the hospital to realize this. He’s recovered enough from his concussion that he’s not dizzy every time he sits up, and so it’s easier to realize how freaking bored he is.

Yuuri does his best to keep him occupied. Between homework and continuing their language lessons and watching movies, it helps, but Yuuri is still training nearly every day and, much as Viktor hates the thought, he can’t be by Viktor’s bedside every minute. Since both of the adults work as well, they hire someone to come stay with Viktor during the day. He’s not supposed to put pressure on his left leg or wrist for at least six weeks, and so he requires help doing almost everything, or at least that’s what it feels like. He can’t get out of bed, he can’t go to the bathroom. Hell, sometimes it’s even hard for him to eat, on days when the pain is bad and his head is muddled. If he moves his leg or foot wrongly just so, it’s horrible. He keeps forgetting about his wrist and tries to use it to lever himself up. Overall, it’s miserable and he honestly can’t wait until he’s healed enough to start doing physical therapy.

Eventually, he decides to start a MySpace account. His friends have been bugging him to do it lately, and even a few fans have asked. Viktor figures he might as well, because he has nothing else to do. And that’s how, over the next few weeks, he finds himself learning how to do basic coding so that he can have _the_ coolest theme on his MySpace. Yuuri thinks it’s weird, but he helps with picking colors sometimes, so it can’t be too bad.

He goes to the doctor and has to get painful injections in various places at least once a week, and it’s never fun. He’s used to doctors, Russia is very serious about the health of their athletes, but this is something Viktor has never had to experience and he honestly hopes that he never has to again, because, again, it’s fucking _awful_.

Viktor. Is. Bored.

“ _Yasha_ ,” Viktor whines one afternoon, three weeks into his own personal hell. “I’m so bored, I’m going to die.”

“Viktor, if you die, it’s because I’m going to kill you,” Yakov sighs. He sets Viktor’s dinner on the tray they have to settle over his lap and moves to the chair by the bed. “You know if you want to recover, you have to stay in bed. If you don’t heal properly, your days as a figure skater are done for.”

Viktor takes a bite of his strogonoff and chews viciously, annoyed because he knows Yakov is right, but it’s just so boring. “Will you tell me a story?” he asks after he swallows. Yakov levels him with a look, but launches into a tale of his wilder years, a hot shot figure skater that lead Russia to victory for many years. It’s something he used to do for Viktor when he was younger and fell ill. Yakov has always had a gruff voice, but for Viktor, it’s also always been soothing, and today is no different. He laughs in all the right places, finishing his dinner without further complaints, and when Yuuri finally comes home from a late practice, Viktor is settled in the bed.

“Yuura, how was your day!”

“It was good, we learn how to do _Grand Jete_ and I find out today that they are doing A Midsummer’s Night Dream this year! I have audition in two weeks, so we are working extra to get ready,” Yuuri tells him, practically bouncing where he sits.

“Amazing! You will get the part, I know it!”

Yuuri waves this off and asks, “How was your day?”

“Same as always now,” Viktor says bitterly. “I stay in bed, I read, I watch TV, I die of being bored.”

“Vicchan…” Yuuri is frowning at him before he suddenly jumps up. “Oh!” He runs out of the room without another word, Viktor calling after him. It doesn’t take long before Yuuri is back, a box in his hands. “Vicchan, I have surprise for you! I tell Phichit that you are hurt and he send me this for you!” He opens the box and pulls out something carefully wrapped, handing it over to Viktor. “And I promise to share candy with you this time!”

Inside the wrapping is a little wooden elephant, similar to the one Yuuri has, but with a different pattern carved into it. There’s also a card in there with a drawing on the front that, according to the ‘get well soon’ note inside, was drawn by Phichit’s younger sister. Viktor sets it up on the table beside the bed, thinking about where he could put it in his room once he’s finally able to go upstairs. Yuuri climbs in the bed next to him, offering the open end of a bag of sweets, which causes Vitkor to laugh, even as he reaches for one. He tries to stay on his healthy eating plan, so that he doesn’t gain a bunch of weight in addition to losing some of his muscle mass from not being able to workout, but he figures eating some junk with Yuuri every so often can’t hurt.

By week five, Viktor is seriously tempted to just walk around anyway. Surely his foot is healed enough by now, it can take some of it his weight.

“Viktor, you get back in that bed right now before I tie you to it,” his nurse says from the kitchen where he’s heating up the lunch Lilia had made at the beginning of the week. Viktor scowls at the open door. “I am not kidding.”

He flops back onto the bed and continues scowling at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the food once it’s brought to him. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the day. Yakov scolds him for acting like a spoiled brat, Lilia tells him he’s not a child anymore and Yuuri… Yuuri just looks at him with disappointment and finally Viktor caves, eating dinner sullenly.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles after he finishes.

“Vitya, you know how important it is for you to eat,” Yakov sighs, collecting the dishes. “I know you’re going stir crazy sitting around, but if you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll never heal. Don’t you miss the ice?”

“I do, that’s why I want to get out of this stupid bed! I’m sick of these four walls and the doctor's office! That’s all I get to see and I can’t stand it.” Viktor doesn’t know how to explain the tightness in his chest, the pressure building each day that he’s stuck here, the thoughts… the thoughts that have been slowly going away over the past few years sneaking back up on him.

Yakov just looks at him for several long minutes before sighing again and nodding. “Okay, Vitya. We’ll see about you going to the studio tomorrow, or maybe the ice rink, We’ll see if we can get you out a little bit more often. The doctor said you should be able to start walking a little soon, so maybe when that happens, we can do… Something, I don’t know.” He gives Viktor another long look, like he wants to add something, but he stops himself, taking the dishes and leaving the door open.

Makka comes in after Yuuri takes the dogs on their nightly walk, jumping up on the bed next to him and giving him slobbery doggie kisses. Vicchan is right behind her and Yuuri is right behind him. Maybe when he’s allowed to walk again, he can go with them, at least a little bit.

Eight days later, they’re at the doctor again. She looks at Viktor’s wrist, humming approvingly at the x-rays that they had taken earlier, and giving him the all clear to start using it.

“But I’m worried about your foot,” she says, hunched over it. “The swelling has gone down significantly, but the bruising is still pretty bad. I don’t want you walking on it too much, but you can start putting a little bit of pressure. No walking unassisted, though, not yet.”

It’s a blow, but Viktor can’t say that he’s too surprised. His foot still looks kinda gross. His knee, however, is fine and she sends him off to the physical therapist to start working out the stiffness in both his wrist and knee. He won’t be allowed to use crutches or even a walker just yet, but Yakov and Yuuri are tall enough that he’s able to use them as a crutch and Viktor is extremely relieved to be able to go to the bathroom without near as much assistance as before.

It helps, as well as Yakov pushing him around in the wheelchair during the day, and Yuuri at night. They have him on a schedule now, where he’s able to go to the dance studio and the rink a few times a week and now he also has physical therapy to get him out of the house. October blows in with a chill the first time Viktor is allowed to walk without any assistance at all. It’s disappointing to watch his fellow competitors skate on TV and not be there, live and in person and _on the ice_ , but Viktor pushes it down. If he takes care of himself, he’ll be back there next year. It’s not soon enough, but it’s what it is.

He sees little Christophe compete in the Rostelecom Cup and remembers adding him on his MySpace page at one point. He posts on Christophe’s page congratulating for coming in fourth place in his first Grand Prix series event and he writes back and before Viktor realizes it, they’re emailing back and forth as well. Christophe is funny, with a quirky sense of humor, and he’s full of stories from his crazy rinkmates. None of Viktor’s own rinkmates are really that far out there, but Viktor shares stories of some of their misadventures and stories of his and Yuuri’s adventures as well. One day, a package arrives from Switzerland, full of chocolate and a small stuffed cat from Chris, and Viktor has the realization that, maybe they’re friends now.

His foot heals slowly, much more slowly than the rest of him. He hates it, hates the bruise that isn’t there because of hard work but because of a stupid fall that should have never happened, had he not been panicking about Yuuri. There are days when it’s perfectly fine and he doesn’t even remember that it hurts, but most days, it’s a dull pain that serves as a reminder of his stupidity. Some days, each step he takes feels like he’s being stabbed. Some days, he has to wrap his ankle, because it’s not healing as well as it should have either.

“There’s not really much we can do for it,” his doctor says. “We have to let the body take its natural course to healing. We’ve led it to this point, but…” She trails off for a moment. There’s more talk, because there’s always fucking talk, concern about clots shaking loose from the bruised area, and another round of injections to help with the swelling, the bruising, the pain, whatever it is that she’s putting around the injury site.

Viktor stares out the window on the ride home. The leaves have fallen off the trees by now. He thinks it might be a metaphor for something. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he cares.

He misses the ice so much that it hurts more than his foot does, but he’s not allowed on the ice yet, not until his foot is better. Yakov is worried he’ll overwork it and injure it even more. Viktor is willing to wait because if he keeps hurting himself, he’ll really never be able to go back on the ice and he definitely will have to put his competitive days behind him. So, he’ll be good, he’ll stay off the ice and not dance and ice his foot when it needs it and do everything perfectly.

Because he will get back on that ice. He will compete. He decides one day after therapy, this will not be the end of Viktor Nikiforov’s ice skating career. He’ll go on to win so many medals and never retire from the skating and ice that he loves so much.

One day, a week and a half before Yuuri’s fourteenth birthday, he’s sitting on Viktor’s bed, practicing a crown braid. “Vicchan, do you think Madame Lilia is going to move out?”

“What?”

“Do you think she is going to move out, like she did last time?”

“Why do you think that?”

He feels Yuuri shug behind him. “She is doing better again, yes? I hear her and Yakov talking the other night. Not fighting like last time, not loud, but they were not having a happy talk. So, I am wondering, do you think she will move out again?”

Viktor sits on that, turning it over in his head. It started out like that before, just quiet fights that were not quite fights. Conversations that were tense, but not overtly so. It’s possible that they’re building back up to it again, though. Lilia is doing better, she’s kept them minutely informed about her progress and the doctors seem very optimistic this time that she’ll pull through. But if she gets all the way better, will she leave again?

“I think it is possible that she will move out, but I do not know, my Yuura,” he finally says. Yuuri sighs, pushing a bobby pin in his hair before moving back. Viktor immediately misses the warmth.

“Here, go see if it is looking okay,” Yuuri says, eyes narrowed on his work. “I think it is not bad, for the first of my tries.”

Viktor stands, testing the pressure of his foot for a moment before going to his mirror and patting his hair. It _does_ look good and Viktor turns to beam at Yuuri. “Ah, you do so well, Yuura! I should take you with me, you always do my hair before competitions, I will be most beautiful person on the rink!” _Never mind that if your foot_ doesn’t _heal, you’ll never be able to compete again_ , a vicious voice tells him.

Yuuri’s bright smile shoves that voice back into its deep, dark hole.

888

For Viktor’s birthday, Yuuri gives him three paper cranes as well as a silky-feeling hanging tapestry he brought back with him from Japan, decorated with bright colors and a scene of mountains and trees, and makes him a bowl of katsudon, just like he has every year since coming to live with them. Viktor compliments him, because katsudon is delicious and Yuuri seems to get better at making it every year. They watch the Russian Nationals, with Yuuri muting the TV any time a commentator starts talking about Viktor missing from the line up this year.

He’s healed enough that he can walk on his own two feet now, but the bruise on his foot still persists and his ankle aches in the cold weather. He feels like he’s never going to heal completely and Yakov won’t let him back on the ice yet, though he’s now allowed in the weight room in addition to his physical therapy, as long as he doesn’t work his legs too hard and stops when his foot starts hurting. He’s playing it carefully, not over extending himself, a matra of “the sooner my foot gets better, the soon I can get on it ice again” running constantly through his head.

He finds himself talking to Chris more and more as well, the younger boys excitement about making it in the upcoming Olympic Winter Games palpable in his emails. On one hand, he’s very excited for his friend to be going to his first ever Olympics, but he’s also extremely bitter than he’s missing his first one. _He_ should be there competing, _he_ should be standing at the top of the podium, _he_ should be the one basking in the glory of Russia’s dominance. Instead, he’s stuck on the couch, watching it from home. Yuuri is the only reason he hasn’t had a complete breakdown, Viktor’s pretty sure. His level head helps Viktor keep his cool while they watch any events with ice skaters, his warmth as he curls into Viktor helping to ground him in reality instead of sinking into fantasies of throwing on his knife shoes and rushing out onto the ice before his foot is ready.

The camera pans to Yakov at one point, staring grimly over the ice as he watches some of Russia’s skaters gliding over the ice. “He does not look happy,” Yuuri comments.

Viktor hums in agreement. Yakov had made it very clear how displeased he was by the fact that Viktor was missing one of the most important events in a professional athletes life.

They watch as Russia wins gold without Viktor in the men's singles, with Evgeni Plushenko beating out Switzerland’s Stéphane Lambiel, who Viktor has known since they were skating in juniors together. Plushenko isn’t someone Viktor knows very well, as he trains on the other side of the country and they had never skated together. They’d met before at various events, though, and Viktor liked him well enough.

When they finally go to sleep, Viktor’s dreams are plagued with visions of his leg in a cast, of him stuck in a wheelchair, of never being allowed on the ice again. He wakes in a cold sweat, looking around the dark of the living room, Yuuri an oblivious lump beside him, snoring softly. He smiles down at Yuuri and briefly considers carrying him up to bed, but the thought of putting extra weight on his tender foot stops him. Instead, he sits for several long minutes and just watches Yuuri sleep, his heart full of tenderness. He hasn’t said anything to Yuuri about his realization, hasn’t really had time to process it much as the bitterness of his injury and banishment from the ice preoccupied his mind for the past several months. But now, in the dark house, hidden from everyone, he lets the feelings wash over him. He’s not sure if it’s love that he’s feeling or something completely different. He… he likes it, whatever it is. His heart swells each time he looks at Yuuri, his stomach swoops with each thought of his favorite dancer, and when he thinks about the memory of Yuuri’s lips on his… Well, it’s fodder for his fantasies, to say the least.

Viktor reaches out, softly brushing away a strand of hair that has fallen over Yuuri’s face. Yuuri stirs beneath his hand, and his eyes blink open. “Vitya?”

“Sh, go back to sleep,” Viktor whispers.

Yuuri glances around, but he doesn’t have his glasses on and soon, his eyes fall back on Viktor. “We fall asleep?”

“ _Da_.”

“Should we go to rooms?”

“No, we sleep here. I did not mean to wake you.”

Yuuri just stares at him for a moment, smiling softly. “Good night, Vitya.” His eyes flutter closed and his breathing evens out as he falls back asleep.

Viktor’s heart aches as he drifts off to sleep as well.

888

May heralds in the breath of spring, and with it comes the news that Viktor can start skating again. His first day back in the rink is terrifying, if he’s being completely honest. He’s worried about falling, about twisting his ankle, about doing any number of things that could cause him to re-injure himself. He doesn’t try any jumps, he hasn’t been cleared for them yet, but he slides around the rink, boots laced tight and his heart pounding in his chest.

Viktor doesn’t fall. He doesn’t twist his ankle. Hell, his ankle doesn’t even hurt much at the end of the day, not like he was worried it would. He hopes, tentatively, that he’s healed. Yakov looks at him approvingly at the end of the day and his doctor and physical therapist are both pleased when he tells him that it didn’t hurt much afterwards. He goes as often as he’s allowed and starts working his legs out more to build up the strength in them. He spends every available moment he can bringing himself back to where he was, to the champion who stood atop nearly ever podium.

Viktor is turned so inwardly that he hardly realizes that he hasn’t seen much of Yuuri in the past two weeks until one day, he walks into the studio to see Yuuri leaning against the wall. In front of him stands a boy, with pale blonde hair, hovering over Yuuri, his arm extended out so that he can prop himself up on the wall. He’s very close to Yuuri, speaking softly, and Yuuri…

Yuuri is looking up at him, smiling softly, and he doesn’t move away when the boy lifts his free hand and brushes a few hairs behind Yuuri’s ear.

Viktor remembers when Yuuri used to jump, used to shie away at the slightest touch, would flee at the smallest hint of intimacy. But now, Yuuri is looking at this boy, this person who Viktor doesn’t even know, and he’s smiling and not moving away and… and biting his lip as he looks up through his lashes. Viktor watches as the boy leans down, his lips brushing Yuuri’s cheek before he takes a step back, saying something quietly to Yuuri as he collects his dance bag from the ground next to them and then he’s gone.

Viktor feels cold, feels shaken to his very core at what he has just seen. He’s never seen Yuuri at ease with anyone else before and he hates it, hates that random nobody boy, hates that it wasn’t him there instead.

“Vicchan!”

He snaps out of his red vision and forces a smile on his face. “Yuura, are you finished for the day?”

“Yes, I just talking to Romuald,” here, Yuuri cheeks turn pink, “class finished not long ago. Are you here to practice?”

Viktor forces himself not to react to that boy’s name and instead shakes his head. “No, I am here to pick you up for dinner tonight.”

Yuuri frowns, shifting his dance bag on his shoulder. “Dinner? I did not know we have plans.”

“I want to treat you tonight, and I have question to ask. But I only ask at dinner, so come! We should go.”

Yuuri laughs and goes along with him, allowing himself to be tugged outside and into the bustling streets.

“I have been thinking about buying a car,” Viktor says as they walk. “I want to get one for my birthday, but-” he grimaces, gesturing to his foot.

“Oh, what kind?”

Viktor talks about all the cars he’s considered and the about the one that he _really_ wants, but doesn’t think he can afford as they walk to the restaurant.

“A pink one? Really?” The look in Yuuri’s eyes is judging, but Viktor just laughs.

“I think it looks very cool!”

“I think you are very silly, Vicchan.” Viktor holds the door open for Yuuri and they get seated immediately, since the dinner rush has not started in earnest. They order and then Yuuri turns that lovely smile to Viktor. “What question did you have?”

“Oh, right! Well, I was wondering… I want to see your country sometime and I want to ask if I could go with you when you go home in few weeks,” Viktor asks nervously, his stomach twisting.

“You want to come to Japan with me?” Yuuri’s brow furrows.

“Yes. Not for whole time, maybe only a week or so? But… I have not have vacation in many years and I… I want to see where you live. Is that okay?”

Yuuri’s still frowning as he considers it before he nods firmly. “Yes, I think you come with me.” Yuuri’s smiles at him and Viktor stomach swoops instead of twists and he reaches across the table to take one of Yuuri’s hands.

“I can’t wait.”

Now he just has to convince Yakov…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am not pleased with this ending, but nothing I did worked and Yuuri threw a wrench in my plans after Viktor threw two in there earlier and, yeah. I just wanted to post because writing 8k+ long chapters is harder than I thought it was going to be.
> 
> Why is he having so much trouble with his foot? Besides the plot device, I've been dealing with a torn tendon in my foot since the end of September and this damn thing is still bruised. If I have to suffer, so shall my characters.
> 
> Fooling around with timelines, possibly, because I don’t actually know when Viktor was born because we don’t know the actual year the show is set in. Unless we do and I don’t know, in which case, suck it up buttercup.
> 
> Major shoutout to idc_chan for being my sounding board (sh, you did help, don't argue) and for both idc_chan and sedatedartist for letting me torture them with snippets.


	5. It Was the Summer of 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes head out from under rock and laughs nervously* Ha, so, been a long time, yeah?
> 
> This isn't the full year, mostly because, like, holy crap the summer part turned out so much longer than I planned??? (It's over half of what I've been having the chapters be.) So enjoy this interlude and also please don't hate me.
> 
> Edit to say that there's [art for chapter 3](http://azraeldoesnotdispute.tumblr.com/post/176275231271/yuuuuuuriiiiii-you-braid-my-hair-tonight-he)!
> 
> Edit, because a lot of people, myself included, are confused about the boy's ages: This summer, Viktor is 18 and Yuuri is 15.

Yuuri’s parents are more than welcoming when Yuuri talks to them about Viktor staying with them. Of course Yakov fights him, but as Viktor still isn’t able to work his foot as hard as he did before, he wins in the end and promises to see Yuuri in a few weeks as he sees him off to the airport. He’ll join Yuuri at the tail end of his visit home, when Yuuri tells him his favorite festival will take place. _There will be no dancing,_ he adds with a small teasing smile. Victor is just glad that Yuuri can joke about it now.

The wait between when Yuuri leaves and Viktor goes to him is terrible. He aches to see Yuuri again, even more so than previous years. He marvels at the notion, at the wonder that is the strong feelings that cause such a thing that he didn’t think possible. He had missed Yuuri terribly those past summers and the only thing that has changed is the realization that Viktor is in love with Yuuri. Sometimes he thinks that Yuuri might feel the same, and other times he thinks that maybe he’s just reading too much into it, that maybe his feelings are clouding his judgement. It’s not like he can ask anyone about it. He has no close friends at the rink, and Yakov would yell at him if he tried to ask. Lilia would kill him.

So Viktor goes about his days, trying to make sense of his predicament, skating his feelings out on the ice. The days fly by and at the same time, seem to drag like honey in the winter. He works out the new routines for the season, waiting for the music to be completed before he finalizes anything. The CD with the music should be done by the time they return from Japan, and then he will be in the thick of getting ready for the new season, so he intends to make the most of his vacation with Yuuri.

All of a sudden, the day arrives. Yakov takes him to the airport, still grumbling good naturedly, and Viktor assures him yet again that he’ll take it easy on his foot, that he’ll still practice at the ice rink Yuuri has told him about, that he’ll dance with Yuuri at his old ballet studio. He promises Yakov with a wink that he’ll bring him back some of his favorite Japanese candy. The old man huffs, but Viktor knows he’s smiling on the inside. Nervous excitement thrums through him as he waits through security and boarding and settles in his seat, carry on stored overhead. In a few short (long, way too long) hours, he’ll get to see Yuuri again. He brought books, including one that Yuuri had given him to help with his spoken Japanese and hiragana, but it’s hard to focus in the beginning of the flight. A couple of the flight attendants recognize him, fawning and spoiling him as the night goes on. Viktor finally manages to doze for a while before he wakes up again, and the focus finally settles, allowing him to go over words and phrases and basic hiragana to help him navigate through the airport.

Yuuri had sent him an email a few days before Viktor left, finalizing the details of how Viktor was going to get from Fukuoka to Yuuri’s hometown of Hasetsu. Aeroflot was late, which was normal, and Yuuri had even planned for that, having grown used to it on his trips to and from Russia the past few years. He told Viktor that he and his sister would be waiting for him at the gate, the same way Viktor has always done for Yuuri, and they would take a train to Hasetsu. He apologized for not having a car, but Viktor had insisted it was fine, he was excited either way to finally be able to see where Yuuri grew up before he came to stay with them in Russia. He was excited to see _Yuuri_. When they finally landed, Viktor forced himself to wait until the aisle were a little more cleared out, because he hated the initial rush of people who acted like being the first one off the plane was an accomplishment, before grabbing his carry on and following the crowd going through customs.

He kept his eyes peeled for the flop of black hair and beautiful eyes behind blue frames, but it was difficult in a country that was predominantly full of people with black hair. His fingers tapped his luggage. His leg jiggled. His free hand twitched over his hair, making sure the length was still tucked safely in his ponytail. Finally he stepped up to the customs official, bowing politely and greeting them in Japanese. The man glanced at him, accepting his passport when Viktor offered it. He didn’t speak much, asking the standard questions in Japanese when Viktor made it clear he was at least mostly fluent.

“My friend, who I’m visiting, he’s been teaching me for years,” Viktor tells him. The man looks uninterested, but Viktor doesn’t care. As soon as he’s past this guy, he can finally see Yuuri again.

His passport is finally stamped and Viktor shuffles off, thanking the man with another bow. Then it’s a matter of figuring out where his luggage is coming out from.

“Vicchan!” a voice yells and something hard collides with Viktor. His arms wrap around Yuuri’s shoulders without a second thought and he holds him close.

“Yuura, I missed you!”

“We talked every day, silly,” Yuuri tells him, pulling back slightly so that he can look up. Viktor’s breath catches as he stares down. He’s a little shorter than Viktor remembers, but that means his head tucks perfectly under Viktor’s chin.

“Email is not talking, Yuura!” He gives him an extra squeeze before stepping back, eyes on a young woman standing disinterestedly off to the side. She looks a bit like Yuuri with her hair cut short and sticking out a bit.

“ _Konichiwa_ ,” Viktor says, bowing to her. “Are you the amazing Mari?” he asks politely.

She smirks at him. “Yuuri said you were charming.”

“Mari-nee!” Yuuri hisses, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. He snaps something at her in Japanese, too fast for Viktor to be able to figure it out, but he’s pretty sure it’s some variation of “shut up before I kill you” in sibling-speak. “Vicchan, ignore her. Yes, this my sister, Mari. She’s here to carry your bags.”

Mari rolls her eyes. “I’m here because our parents don’t like you coming this far by yourself.”

“I am old enough-”

“You’re, like, five-”

“I live in different country-”

“You’re fiiiiiive,” Mari interrupted again, this time her voice a teasing sing-song.

They playfully fight and nag while they wander over to where Viktor’s luggage is supposed to come out and Viktor doesn’t realize that he hasn’t dropped Yuuri’s hand (he can’t even remember grabbing it, to be honest) until he goes to grab his bag. Yuuri realizes at the same time and his blush returns in full force as he lets go so that he can grab it for him.

“So we’re taking the train to Hasetsu, you tell me in your email?” Viktor prods as they make their way through the airport, Mari walking ahead of them.

“ _Hai_ , the truck we have for the onsen, it is not good for long distances, so we take the train to Hasetsu station. The town is not very big, but kaasan is letting us borrow the truck to take you to the onsen, since you have your bag and your foot is still not the best.” Yuuri positively beams up at him as they step out of the airport and Viktor takes his first breath of real Japanese air, not just the stuffy air in the airport. “I missed you a lot, Vicchan.”

Viktor hugs him tightly to him. “I missed you, too, Yuura. I’m excited to see where you grew up.”

“He has posters-”

“Mari-nee!”

“Posters of what?”

“MARI-”

Mari just hums, winking at Viktor before she turns away, leading the way to the train station while Viktor tells Yuuri about their friends at the rink and the studio and all about little Vicchan, who has to stay in Russia when Yuuri goes home in the summer. He promises to show him all the pictures he’s taken as soon as they get to the onsen and he can get his camera out. Yuuri points out landmarks and, once they arrive in Hasetsu, stories about places where he grew up. In the truck, he’s able to point out the dance studio he originally trained in and even the skating rink where he’s been learning.

“Up there, that is the Hasetsu Castle, but Vicchan, inside, it’s a ninja house!”

Viktor gapes, his eyes wide. “Ninja?!”

Mari promises to take him after he’s had time to rest, and Viktor continues taking in the cozy little town as the journey to Yuuri’s home is completed. The trunk shudders to a stop outside a squat little building that looks old but well cared for, and they tumble out. Viktor looks around the well kept courtyard, imagining an even tinier Yuuri running around, maybe scraping his knees and running to Mari to get a bandaid. The thought makes him smile as he follows the siblings inside.

“You’re home!” a voice cries out and a short woman who looks a lot like Yuuri comes running out, hugging Yuuri first and then Mari before she turns to Viktor, who is standing awkwardly off to the side.

“And you are Yuuri’s Vicchan, yes?” she says with slightly broken English, stepping over and cupping his face. “Yuuchan tell me all about you, you are his great friend.”

“ _Okaasan_ ,” Yuuri whines, a blush racing across his cheeks. “He speaks Japanese, remember? You just have to speak a little slower.”

“ _Konichiwa_ ,” Viktor says, starting to bow, but he’s stopped by her hands tightening on his face. She coos at him in Japanese until Yuuri makes her let him go, his face a flaming red beacon of embarrassment.

“You have been taking such good care of Yuuri, now it is my turn to take care of you,” she tells him.

“ _Arigatou_ , Katsuki-san, I am honored.” This time, Viktor is able to get a bow in, but Yuuri’s mother is already waving away his words.

“No, no, you must call me Hiroko-san! Yuuchan, you take his bags up to his room, I will make your Vicchan something to eat. Come, you must be starving, those airplanes don’t serve good food.” She bustles him to the dining room, pushing him down to sit before hurrying off. There’s an older television off to the side playing what appears to be a Japanese soap opera. The decorations around the room look very traditional and Viktor isn’t sure if that’s just their style or if it’s for the tourists. Yuuri comes back before Hiroko-san does, folding himself down on the ground next to Viktor.

“I’m sorry, Vicchan, she is just excited.” His ears are still red, but he’s managed to contain the rest of his blush. “I… have talked a lot about you to my family. Kaasan is just happy I had a friend when I moved to Russia.”

Viktor’s heart twinges at ‘friend’ but he pushes it down and pulls Yuuri to him. “Of course I made friends with you, Yuuri is the best!”

“Vicchan-”

“Yuuuuuriiiiiiiiii,” Viktor whines, pouting exaggeratedly. “You are the best, I always tell you this.”

Yuuri doesn’t try to argue again, but his cheeks are turning a little red again and, honestly, it’s the cutest thing ever. “Today we can go see some things, keep you awake so you can adjust, and then tomorrow, we can go to the ninja house.”

“That sounds like a good plan, Yuura,” Viktor says as Hiroko-san comes back with a tray, which she unloads in front of Viktor.

“This is  _katsudon_ ,” she tells Viktor. “Yuuri tells me he has made it for you before?”

“Yes, many times.” Every time, it’s more and more delicious. “Yuuri-san tells me his is not as good as you?”

Hiroko-san waves this off. “He is never as proud of himself as he should be, his is just as good. Eat, eat!” She walks away, chattering about growing boys being too skinny as Yuuri rolls his eyes.”

“She always thinks I’m better than I am,” he grumbles. “Try kaasan’s, you’ll see, it’s much better than mine.”

Viktor privately thinks that nothing is better than something that Yuuri personally made for him, even if it was burnt black beyond belief, but he can’t say that outloud, so instead, he makes a big production of cutting a bit of pork off and maneuvering a mouthful of everything he can with the chopsticks. He sticks his tongue out at Yuuri when he sees Yuuri rolling his eyes at Viktor’s theatrics, but then Viktor is taking a bite and it’s good. Really good. But, strangely, it tastes almost exactly the same as Yuuri’s. There’s really not much of a difference and Yuuri rolls his eyes again when Viktor tells him so.

“Kaasan’s is better, you don’t have to tell me different, Vicchan.”

“It tastes almost the same as when you make it! It’s very delicious, you are too hard on yourself, always, Yuura.” Viktor doesn’t press further than that, because Yuuri will clam up faster than anything, instead changing the subject to ask what they’ll be doing for the rest of the day. There’s not a lot of things to do in the tiny seaside town, but Yuuri promises that he’ll take him to see all of the best that Hasetsu has to offer.

“But today, I think we do just a little bit and then go to bed early so you can adjust well. We can go to the beach and maybe the ice rink? I have practice with Minako-sensei soon, but Mari-nee says that she can take you there until I am done.”

“Can I go to practice with you, Yuura?”

Yuuri looks at him like he’s crazy. “Are you sick? You never go to studio without prodding!”

Viktor affects a wounded look. “I am always at studio!”

“Because Yakov would kill you if you did not.”

“I like watching you dance, you know this.”

Ah, there’s the full blush again.

888

The beach is gorgeous, the studio minimalistic without being barren, and the ice rink is fun. Both of them are strapped into their boots when a young girl bursts in, followed by a young man about the same age who is scowling.

“Yuuri-kun, you’re here!” she calls, rushing over to them. “Takashi-kun’s mother called, why didn’t you tell- OH MY GOD IT’S VIKTOR NIKIFOROV!” she screams, suddenly noticing Viktor next to Yuuri, who snickers.

“Yuuchan, this is my friend Viktor-san.” He gives the girl, who must be the Yuuko he talks about so much when he comes home, a Look. “Vicchan, this is Yuuko-san, she is the one who helps me skate here at the Ice Castle.”

“ _Kon'nichiwa,_ Yuuko-san,” Viktor says, standing and bowing politely. “Yuuri-kun has told me much about you.”

She’s got stars in her eyes when she looks at him, but manages to bow back. “ _Kon'nichiwa,_ Viktor-san. Yuuri-kun has also told me about you. Oh, this is Nishigori-san,” she says belatedly, gesturing to the scowling boy, who bows stiffly.

“ _Kon'nichiwa_ ,” he grumps.

Viktor holds back a laugh, a grin spreading across his face, but inside he also hopes that the star-struck look on Yuuko’s face will wear off soon. It’s tiring to put on a fake face so often and he really just wants to enjoy his time in Japan with Yuuri. “Are you here to practice too?” he asks.

“Ah, no, I didn’t plan to, I just heard that Yuuri-kun was here,” Yuuko says. She appears to have calmed down some, but is still looking at him in a way that makes him think of the cartoons where hearts pop out of the characters eyes.

“Yuuchan, you can skate with us if you want,” Yuuri says, giving her a weird look. “I don’t think Vicchan will mind.”

“I am here to take off time from being Viktor Nikiforov,” Viktor says. “Here, I am only Viktor-san.”

Yuuko turns bright red, but she nods. “If you’re okay with it, I would love to skate with you, Viktor-san.”

Yuuko prods Takashi into changing into his boots too and the four of them set off on the ice. They skate circles around each other for a bit, giggling and showing off footwork, and Yuuri shows him the double flip into a spread eagle into an Ina Bauer that he’s been working on. It’s coming along beautifully and Yuuri beams at him when he tells him so.

“And Yuuchan and I have been working on lifts this summer, because Nishigori-san is not very good at them, do you want to see?” He looks so excited that there’s no way Viktor could tell him no, even if he wanted to.

The two skate off down the rink, moving in close together as they do so that they can get their timing down. After they’re adjusted, they skate closer to where Viktor and Nishigori are waiting, doing a few small moves as though they are actually dancing together before Yuuri lifts Yuuko with ease, the landing only slightly wobbling. Viktor applauds heartily no matter what as they circle back around to them, chattering about what they could do better next time.

“What do you think?” Yuuri asks, eyes bright as he slides to a stop in front of Viktor.

“The landing was sloppy and you didn’t brace her very well,” Nishigori says, his tone bored but his eyes jealous. Yuuri frowns at him, but doesn’t have a chance to open his mouth before Yuuko steps in.

“He wasn’t asking _you_ , Takashi-kun, he was asking someone who has professional skating experience. Stop being mean to Yuuri-kun!”

Face red with either embarrassment or shame, Yuuri tugs Viktor away before Yuuko really gets into her dressing down of Nishigori. “What did _you_ think, Vicchan?”

“I think you and Yuuko-san move very well together,” Viktor says truthfully. “If you were to start pair skating, she would be a good partner for you.”

“Ah, but we both know I will not skate, and she is not who I would want to be partners with, though I do like Yuuchan very much. She has helped me a lot with skating, just like you.” He’s not looking at Viktor anymore, but he’s also not looking at anyone else in particular either, gliding casually around the rink. There are a few people there, but it’s still a school day and so most of them are adults with young children who are just starting on the ice or teenagers who are apparently no longer in school or haven’t started university yet.

Yuuko eventually joins them, Nishigori trailing behind her. When Viktor asks why they’re not in school too, Yuuko tells him that they finished their classes already and Yuuko herself uses ice skating as an extracurricular activity, though it’s not a passion that is shared by most of her classmates. Nishigori is skipping his extracurricular, apparently, and had followed Yuuko to the skate rink when she heard that Yuuri was there.

“Why do you not come home when your friends are out of school?” Viktor asks when they’re on their way back to the onsen, pleasantly tired after so much walking and skating.

Yuuri hums thoughtfully to himself for a second before answering. “I try to find when the tickets are cheaper, to make things easier on my parents. Plus, Tanabata is one of my favorite festivals, and it changes every year, so I also try to make it here that time if I can. Yuuchan is my only friend here and she understands, because she is a skater and has a busy schedule, so she is not mad when I come during the school year.”

“Not Nishigori-san? He is not a friend?”

Yuuri’s nose wrinkles at that and he shakes his head. “I do not think he likes me very much, he is mean until Yuuchan yells at him.”

Viktor laughs at that, but thinks about the way Nishigori’s eyes would track Yuuri around the rink, even if Yuuko wasn’t near him. He thinks about the old adage of pulling pigtails, but doesn’t say anything to Yuuri, who would deny it either way. They walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence and then Yuuri introduces him to their famous hot springs.

“These are the ones for the guests, but if you want, I can show you the family ones. They are not as nice, but people will not stare as much.” Yuuri glances ruefully at the people who are standing by the glass walls that lead from the inside to the out.

“I think your family ones will be good, you will show them to me?” He’s not eager to be stared at by strangers as he bathes. He has known since Yuuri first told him about it that bathing was an open thing here, but the way Yuuri talked, it was casual and people didn’t stare so much.

“I think it is because you are so pretty and your hair is so different,” Yuuri whispers to him teasingly as he leads him past a few occupied pools and through a gate that has a sign hanging off of it. They set their clothes inside on a table that is far away from where a couple of shower heads are hanging off the wall. There are a few bottles as well, which Yuuri tells him are soap.

“First, we clean ourselves, so that we do not take, ah, bad stuff, dirt? I do not know the English word and I have not taught you the Japanese one,” Yuuri says. “But, dirt, sweat, all that kind, we wash first.” He gestures to the shower heads and the stools that are set out in front of them. Viktor watches Yuuri as he sits down and turns on the taps, copying his movements. The water is warm as it flows out, no waiting for it to heat up, and they wash themselves quickly, Viktor using his limited knowledge of hiragana to figure out what soap goes where. Afterwards, Yuuri hands him a small towel to cover himself with if he wants to.

“Now, we use these to adjust to the onsen.” Yuuri hands him a wooden bowl and shows him how to dip it in the water without making a splash. They start at their feet and work their way up towards the heart, which Yuuri says is important to save for last.

“Step in slowly, do not splash around. Onsens are important for relaxing,” he says, sinking in quickly with a sigh. “It is only hot for a second,” he adds teasingly when Viktor hesitates after dipping a toe in. “Oh, and do not let your towel touch the water!” Viktor freezes, the water halfway to his thighs and the towel covering his modesty.

“Why not?”

“It is considered rude. You put it on your head or by the bath, but you should not let it touch the water if you can help it.”

Feeling awkward for probably the first time in his life, Viktor moves the towel as he lowers himself into the water. It’s hot, almost unbearably so, but once he settles in with the water lapping at his shoulders, he finds that Yuuri is right and his body adjusts quickly. With a glance at Yuuri, he copies him and drapes his towel over the top of his head and settles in. It’s peaceful, the quiet sounds of the other patrons on the other side of the fence muted more so by the foliage that clings to the wooden planks. Not that it was loud to begin with, because, as Yuuri said, onsen’s are for relaxing. Viktor swears he can feel his worries melting away, the slight pain in his foot vanishing, the sore muscles in his thighs easing.

He’s only just drifting off when Yuuri calls his name. Blinking rapidly, he removes his towel, but his fingers are clumsy in his exhaustion and it slips into the water. “Oh no,” he moans, picking it up quickly, but the damage is done.

“It’s okay, Vicchan, it happens. Wring it out _outside_ of the bath, never inside,” Yuuri tells him. After Viktor is done, frowning at the mess he’s made, Yuuri urges him out and they go back to the bathing area. Through his yawns, Viktor listens as Yuuri tells him that they don’t need to wash again because it will rinse off the beneficial minerals and instead, they should dry off completely before going into the changing area where clean yukata are waiting for them. He does as he’s told, blinking heavily as he changes into the dark green yukata provided for him. Yuuri bustles him into the eating area, where a few patrons are already seated and the television is set to a game show. Hiroko-san sets a bowl in front of him and Yuuri prods him to eat between serving their guests.

He manages to finish most of the food before the tiredness really sets in, and then Yuuri is there again, leading him to his room. “Come on, Vicchan, in you go,” he says, dumping him into bed and pulling the covers over him.

“Goodnight, Yuura,” Viktor yawns, and falls asleep with a smile when he hears Yuuri call goodnight back.

888

The next morning sees Viktor practically bouncing out of bed with the sun, which is actually late for him, but he blames lingering jet lag. He makes his way downstairs and is greeted by Hiroko-san, who coos over him again and leads him to the dining room, gently pushing him down and disappearing. She comes back with a plate of fish, rice, and miso soup, setting it on the table and gesturing at him to eat.

“ _Oishīdesu,_ _arigato_!” he exclaims after a couple of bites, and Hiroko-san beams at him. He’s suddenly reminded of Yuuri’s bright smile and has no doubt he inherited it from her. She bows to him before going back to the kitchen. There aren’t many guests out, only a few dotted around the room, but Viktor shrugs it off. Most people who are here are on vacation and most will probably want a lie in; not everyone has Viktor’s habit of waking before the sun most mornings. Yuuri and Yakov both call it obnoxious; Lilia approves of it.

He finishes his breakfast and leans back with a sigh. It was delicious and now he’s pleasantly full and, well, bored. Boredom and Viktor don’t mix well. He starts glancing around him, wondering what to do. He’s not comfortable enough to ask the Katsuki’s if he can help and he will _not_ go wake up Yuuri, who is grumpy if he’s woken too early when he doesn’t have to be up. Viktor fidgets and finally stands, leaving his dishes there when Hiroko-san comes in and tells him she’ll clean it up. He thanks her again and wanders to the back of the inn, startled when he comes across Mari leaning against the railing, a cigarette dangling from between her fingers.

“I did not know you smoke,” he says, watching the grey trail drift off in the light breeze.

Mari lets out a snort before taking another hit from the end. “Only in the past couple of years, I try not to too often.” She reaches in her yukata and pulls out a pack, shaking it and offering the cigarette that pops out to Viktor. He has to admit, he’s curious, but it’s a curiosity that he’s always pushed down because cigarettes damage your lungs and he’s a professional athlete, he really shouldn’t…

He takes the cigarette, holding it awkwardly as Mari lights it for him. The first inhale is too deep, burning as he coughs, holding the death stick far from his face. Mari laughs at him, because of course she does, shoving a glass of water under his nose. He drinks slowly, steadying his breath until he feels normal-ish. He tries again once he’s feeling better, taking a much smaller hit and just holding it in his mouth before letting it out. Mari shows him how to carefully flick the ashes into the glass bowl she provides, which takes some practice, but he feels confident after a few tries. His throat burns, but he pretends that it doesn’t, standing on the back patio and watching the sun creep higher until his cigarette is burned out.

“Ah, thank you,” Viktor says, stubbing out the end like he saw Mari do.

“Go wash your hands and brush your teeth again,” is the only thing she says as she shoves the bowl back to where it’s hidden from view before turning back to the backyard. “Yuuri hates the smell.”

Viktor nods, even though she’s not looking at him, and goes back inside. Oddly, he doesn’t feel like he rebelled or anything, he doesn’t even feel ‘cool’ or anything like the movies, he just feels a little dirty and light headed and resolves to not repeat the experiment again. He washes his hands and brushes his teeth, just like Mari suggested and even goes so far as to change clothes, but he still feels like the scent lingers as he goes back to the dining area. Yuuri is there, sleepily putting a plate down in front of a guest, but he lights up when he turns and sees Viktor.

“Vicchan, kaasan said you were already up, where were you?” he asks as he gets closer. “And why do you smell like cigarettes?”

“I was outside with Mari-san, she was smoking,” Viktor lies. He excuses the lie because doesn’t ever plan on doing it again, so it’s not bad, right? At least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Oh. Well, are you ready to go out?” Yuuri is looking up at him hopefully and, well, Viktor never tells Yuuri no.

“Are you?” he asks, because Yuuri is still wearing a yukata, are you supposed to wear them in town? Should Viktor not have changed?

“Yes, I’ll change before I go to the studio. What do you want to see first?”

They go to the ninja house, where Viktor takes a bunch of pictures to upload on his MySpace and asks someone to take pictures of him and Yuuri. As the week passes, they visit everything the little town has to offer, plus daily visits to the ice rink to skate with Yuuko and Nishigori, and the ballet studio, where Viktor makes fast friends with Yuuri’s old teacher, Minako, who tells him that she once tried to convince Yuuri to do ice skating instead of ballet, but Yuuri had insisted that he wanted to dance. She also tells him that she’s a big fan of his and Viktor resolves to leave her an autograph before he leaves, somehow. After all, if she hadn’t shown Yuuri to Lilia, they might never have met and Viktor doesn’t like to think about what his life would be like without Yuuri in it.

Mornings are spent with Mari, who continues to offer him cigarettes, but Viktor doesn’t take her up on it again, though one morning, she drags him out to the shop that did her piercings and talks him into getting his nose pierced. (It honestly didn’t take much talking, piercings are _cool_ and Mari looks so badass with all of hers…) Evenings are often spent in the kitchen of the inn, when Hiroko-san doesn’t shoo him out, learning how to cook a few easy recipes. It’s easy and simple and Viktor doesn’t want to go back to St. Petersburg.

Two days before they’re set to leave is the festival, which Yuuri has told him all about and Viktor had even insisted on helping the Katsuki’s set up the inn for.

“ _Tanabata_ is the Star Festival,” Yuuri tells him as they wander around the village that afternoon. They’re both dressed in kimono and waraji shoes, because Yuuri wanted Viktor to have the “experience”, which Viktor is pretty sure means Yuuri is messing with him, but he’s gratified to see they’re not the only ones in more traditional clothing. His is silky and pink with different flowers patterned on it, which Yuuri’s is a dark blue with birds taking flight. Viktor had bought them himself when Yuuri first told him that was his plan, purchasing them from a local shop on the sly and having them delivered to the inn so that Yuuri couldn’t argue with him.

Now, though, he focuses on the story Yuuri is telling and trying not to trip with the unfamiliar shoes.

“Orihime, daughter of the Sky King, wove beautiful clothes by the bank of the _Amanogawa_ , what Westerners call the Milky Way,” Yuuri begins. “He loved the cloth and so she worked very hard every day to weave it. But Orihime was sad that because she worked so hard that she could never meet and fall in love with anyone. Concerned about his daughter, the Sky King arranged for her to meet Hikoboshi, who lived and worked on the other side of the _Amanogawa_ as a cow herder. When the two met, they fell instantly in love with each other and married.”

They stop briefly to purchase drinks; the sun is only just beginning to set and lanterns are being lit. “What happened next?” Viktor asks when Yuuri stays quiet as they watch games being set up a little ways up the road. Yuuri blinks, turning back to him, and Viktor’s heart melts.

“What?”

“They wouldn’t have a story for the ages if that was the end, there has to be something bad that happens.”

“Not every love story has a sad ending.” Yuuri is once again looking in the distance, but sighs when Viktor nudges him softly.

“Well, once they were married, Orihime wouldn’t weave cloth for Sky King and Hikoboshi allowed his cows to stray all over Heaven. When the Sky King saw that they were not doing their duty, he angrily separated the two lovers across the _Amanogawa_ and told them they could never see each other again. Orihime was very sad at the loss of her husband and asked her father to let them meet again. The Sky King was so moved by his daughter’s tears that he allowed the two to meet on the seventh day of the seventh month if she promised to work hard and finished her weaving. But the first time they tried to meet, they found that they could not cross the river because there was no bridge. Orihime cried so much that a flock of magpies came and promised to make a bridge with their wings so that she could cross the river.

“It is said that if it rains on Tanabata, the magpies cannot come because of the rise of the river and the two lovers must wait until another year to meet.” Yuuri glances back at Viktor before his eyes dart forward again. “We are lucky, there is not any rain tonight, so the lovers will get to see each other. There will be a parade soon, too, do you want to go to that? There is also fireworks later, and we can play games once the town is set up.”

There’s much Viktor could say, because he’s a sappy romantic and that story hits him right in the chest, but he just nods and says, “Let’s go to the parade.”

It’s beautiful and there is dancing in the streets, which Viktor is very careful to join in but not make a fool of himself by dancing on a bench. There are games and delicious food stalls and fireworks that burst in the air. Viktor swears that they’re more beautiful and colorful than the ones in Russia, but Yuuri just rolls his eyes and smiles that sweet smile that says he thinks Viktor is an idiot but he likes him anyway. Then, Viktor notices the bamboo plants and some of the trees have colorful paper hanging from them. He had assumed it was just decoration, but then he sees some people writing on slips and hanging them on the trees before they walk away.

“Yuuri, what are they doing?” Yuuri looks over to where Viktor is gesturing (with his whole hand, thank you very much, Yuuri had given him a rundown of customs _years_ ago) and smiles.

“You put wishes, or some people write little poems, on the _tanzaku_ and then hang them. At midnight, the papers are burned, though some areas float them down river.” He glances over to a nearby shop that has the brightly colored slips of paper set out. “Do you want to hang a wish?”

Viktor doesn’t even stop to think before he agrees, so when he steps up to the stall and grabs a _tanzaku_ , he has to pause for a moment to figure out what to write.

Wish for Yuuri to stay with him forever? Wish that this night could never end? Wish for all the things he knows he shouldn’t?

Viktor mulls over this for a long time before finally writing something down in carefully printed Cyrillic. It’s very likely that no one else around here knows how to read it and Yuuri isn’t super familiar with it, mostly using it to navigate street signs and the occasional trip to the grocery, so he may not be able to decipher it either. Viktor hopes not as he accepts the bit of string the shop owner offers and carefully loops it through the _tanzaku_ before hanging it high on the bamboo. He watches as Yuuri writes his own wish, or maybe it’s a poem, but takes care not to look at the words themselves out of respect.

Yuuri is so beautiful in the soft light of the lanterns and strings of colorful lights that are hung everywhere. His eyes twinkle, the edges of them creasing as he smiles and hangs his own slip somewhat close to Viktor’s. The smile he gives Viktor is something else entirely, warm and real and more…

Viktor shuts his brain off before he can go further. “Where to next, Yuura?”

“Come on, I will show you how to make the paper cranes I make you every year, there’s a stall down the way!”

He takes Viktor’s hand, easy as you please, and pulls him along and of course Viktor follows. They make cranes and flowers and hearts and Yuuri even makes a dragon, though it’s not quite what the picture shows. The cranes are hung, too, for decoration, and Viktor tucks the lilly he made behind Yuuri’s ear, feeling horribly cliche and not really caring. Yuuri laughs anyway, complaining good naturedly that it’s just going to fall off, but he touches it throughout the rest of the night, so Viktor takes it as a win anyway.

They wander the streets for the rest of the night, playing the occasional game or getting a drink when they grow too warm. It’s a lovely evening all together and as they walk back to the onsen, Viktor thinks about the past few years, how much Yuuri has grown to mean to him, and, unfortunately, about the one kiss they’ve shared. “Unfortunately”, because Viktor can’t get it out of his mind. Yuuri looks so beautiful in the moonlight and the fading lights of the lanterns and, as they enter the dimly lit dining room of Yuuri’s childhood home, quietly removing their shoes, the memory overwhelms Viktor’s senses and he leans in when Yuuri glances up at him, their lips meeting.

Yuuri smells almost the same as he did the first time they kissed, like the laundry soap they use here at the onsen, and a little like spices from the food they had eaten. He gasps softly against Viktor’s lips, but doesn’t pull away first, instead staring at Viktor with wide eyes when Viktor takes a step back.

Panic crashes over Viktor like a wave when Yuuri just stands there looking shocked.

“I-I’m sorry, I do not know- I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Viktor stutters, and, to his eternal shame, Viktor flees to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAID PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!!! Well, for multiple reasons, but partly that last bit.
> 
> I am so sorry that this took so long! I had planned to write sooner, but I lost one of my jobs and the depression hit hard and a lot of stuff has been happening and I started a shop to try to make extra money and that means working on the stuff to sell in the shop and and and
> 
> I'm sorry :(((((((
> 
> But look, a chapter! Things happened! Angst will soon abound! The next chapter is planned out and it's gonna be a whopper (I hope). 
> 
> Information about the onsen and etiquette was primarily taken from [here](http://en.naruko.gr.jp/onsen.html), with some slight variances based on other things I found on Google. I also took some slight liberties with Tanabata, but that was primarily taken from the Wiki page and so you should fix that and not yell at the poor depressed author. (You can also tell me and I'll fix it, but please don't yell at me, I am smol and sad.)
> 
> Also also, I blame idc_chan for basically all of the Viktor/Mari stuff. SMOKING IS BAD, PLEASE DON'T DO IT, IT DOES NOT MAKE YOU LOOK COOL, YOU JUST SMELL BAD FOREVER. -signed, someone who has smokers in their family
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has stuck with me and the ones who sent me love when I posted the not-update back in April, you guys are the ones that keep me going!


	6. Year Four: 2006-2007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, but it turned out to be a lot more difficult to write the beginning of this than I thought it was going to be. I hope it turned out okay (idc_chan says it is) and I hope you guys like angst because holy cheese...
> 
> In the beginning of this chapter, Viktor is 18 and Yuuri is 15. At the end, they are 19 and 16, respectively.

The next day, Viktor hides in his room.

He’s not proud of it, but that’s what he does, hiding in there and pretending to be asleep and wishing he had brought his portable cd player so he can pretend that he can’t hear the knocks or whispers. It’s childish and, frankly, pathetic, but Viktor doesn’t know what else to do that doesn’t involve facing Yuuri like a man.

So, he mopes. And packs, because they leave the next day to fly back to Russia and Viktor has accumulated a lot of… stuff. Souvenirs and mementos and clothes because, let’s face it, Viktor is a bit of a clothes hoarder and Japan offers a lot of pretty things, as well as delicious foods, which Viktor is going to hide from Yakov and Lilia because they are certainly not on his diet plan. By lunch, he’s starving but doesn’t know how to get food without seeing Yuuri, or talking to, you know, anyone…

Mari, or someone, saves the day by leaving him a tray in front of his door with food on it and Viktor devours it like a man who has been starving in the desert. He knows that he’ll eventually have to see everyone because they leave _tomorrow_ , but he just… he really does not want to leave this room.

The decision is left out of his hands an hour or so later when there’s a soft knock on the door and it opens before he can say anything or ignore it, Yuuri quietly closing the door behind him. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and looks like he’s been biting it all day because it’s red and swollen. “Viktor, we need to talk,” he says, glancing up at Viktor through his hair.

Viktor honestly can’t remember the last time he heard his full name from Yuuri’s lips and it drives it even further home how serious this is, as though he needed a reminder. “Yuuri, I am very sorry about last night, I do not know-”

“Viktor, I am not mad,” Yuuri interrupts. He pauses, his eyes closing as he takes what is obviously a steadying breath. “I am… confused, I think?” He finally looks Viktor straight in the eye. “Why?”

“I…” It’s not often that Viktor is at a loss for words, but it’s usually Yuuri that makes it happen. “I do not know why, Yuuri. I- You looked so beautiful and we had a good night, I did not- I do not want things to be bad between us. You know how much I care for you.”

“I care for you a lot, too, but a kiss is… I am not sure. I do not know what to be thinking of this.” His brow is furrowed and he’s still biting his lip whenever he’s not talking and Viktor hates himself for reducing his best friend to this bundle of nerves and anxiety.

“I am so sorry, Yuuri. Can we forget it happened? I want to keep my best friend. It was a silly mistake, that’s all.”

Something darkens in Yuuri’s eyes at that and he nods, looking away before Viktor catches more than a glimpse. “We should- Yes, that is good, we forget the silly mistake.” He flashes Viktor a smile that doesn’t reach is his eyes. “Come downstairs, Vicchan, _kasaan_ made you a big going home dinner! We tell everyone goodbye tonight.”

Viktor doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to figure out what that look meant, and allows himself to be lead downstairs where the Katuski’s are, as well as Yuuri’s _sensei_ and friends, all settling around a large table overloaded with food. They sit and talk and eat and Viktor pointedly does not try to “accidentally” brush hands with Yuuri or stare at him or talk to him too much. After everything, he doesn’t want to make Yuuri uncomfortable.

Mari-san keeps giving him these Looks, though, and Hiroko-san clucks worriedly over him like a mother hen; there’s something in her touch that makes Viktor feel like she knows, but won’t say anything. Yuuri is still her child and she worries over him even more than she does Viktor, but she still cares, probably too much considering what Viktor had done.

But he makes it through. He tells everyone goodbye as they leave, slipping Yuuko-san a signed poster with a wink, and receiving firm instructions from Minako to take care of their Yuuchan in Russia because “He’s too skinny and I know how Lilia is!” Viktor nods solemnly, because taking care of Yuuri and making sure he eats are some of the few things that Viktor takes seriously in life. Once the inn has emptied for the night, aside from those who are guests and the Katsuki family, they all head in different directions; the older Katsuki’s to have their nightly tea and chat, while Viktor, Yuuri, and Mari to bed because they all have to get up early to catch the train to Fukuoka and their plane back to Russia. Viktor tells everyone good night, accepting a hug from Hiroko-san, and makes his way upstairs so that Yuuri can say his own private goodbyes to his family.

This, of course, is the end of the distractions and now all Viktor is left with is his circling thoughts. Yuuri had been ignoring him as much as he had been ignoring Yuuri, Viktor assumes so they wouldn’t end up making a scene in front of everyone that Yuuri cares about, but he can’t deny that it doesn’t hurt some. They had talked about it, had agreed that they should forget that kiss, but there’s something in the air between them now, a tension like there never has been before. Perhaps Viktor had taken their easy friendship for granted, had assumed that things would always be that way between them, and now he’s lost without his best friend.

And, fuck, tomorrow, they have to fly together for several hours, in close quarters, and what then? Can they continue the conversation they had earlier? Do they need to? Things seemed like they were wrapped up, but now, Viktor isn’t sure. That tension, it’s just… It’s not going to go away any time soon, he knows that, but is talking about it going to make things better or worse? He has no answers to that and Viktor hates not knowing things.

He changes for bed, packs the last of everything that won’t be needed in the morning, taking special care with the kimono he had worn the night before, when everything was okay and he hadn’t ruined his life.

Viktor isn’t dramatic at all…

Sighing, he flops ( _not dramatically_ ) onto the bed and closes his eyes, trying to get some rest. He must have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knows, Hiroko-san is at his door, waking him up with a cup of tea and some breakfast. He eats gratefully while she putters around his room, fidgeting and straightening things that don’t necessarily need straightening. Finally, she looks straight at him and Viktor freezes.

“I do not know what happen with Yuuchan, but you two are friend. You make things better, so both can be happy,” she tells him in her broken English, but Viktor understands all too well.

“ _Hai_ , I try, Hiroko-san,” he tells her. She comes over, cupping his face gently.

“You good boy, Viktor-san, take care you self.” She pats his cheek and gathers up his food, leaving Viktor feeling overwhelmed with… so many more emotions that he can name. He stumbles through getting ready and stows away the last of this things, hauling them down to the truck; they’re considerably heavier than they were when he first arrived and he even has a new suitcase because all the things he’s bought wouldn’t fit in the ones he brought with him. He gives Yuuri a small, unsure smile when they pass each other, but Yuuri still isn’t quite awake and only gives him a quirk of his lips, his eyes half closed. Viktor tries not to take offence because Yuuri is really _not_ a morning person and Viktor knows this.

Once all of his luggage is in the flat of the truck, Viktor goes back inside to tell the elder Katsuki’s goodbye and to tell them thanks once again for letting him stay. Toshiya-san shakes his hand warmly, if a bit awkwardly, and Hiroko-san just wraps him in a hug, holding tightly. It’s been so long since he’d been hugged by a mother that he freezes for a full two seconds before wrapping his arms around her as well. She’s so short next time him, but her presence is so big that she seems to fill up the room, every corner overflowing with motherly love. She presses a package into his hands before shooing his away with a promise to cheer him on in his next competition and Viktor has to hurry and leave before he starts crying.

Mari is standing outside the truck smoking when he returns and she gives him one of those Looks again. Viktor is afraid she’s going to say something, but before she can, Yuuri comes out of the inn, also clutching a package, his backpack slung over his shoulders. Mari tosses her stubbed out cigarette into her pocket and climbs into the driver's’ seat; Yuuri is squashed between them, but doesn’t seem to care or notice, his head dropping back and eyes closing the moment his package is carefully placed into his bag at his feet. He appears to have gone back to sleep and stays that way all the way to the trains station, jolting awake when the truck shudders to a stop. Viktor climbs out first, letting them say some private goodbyes while he unloads the bags from the back of the truck. Yuuri only has one, because Japan is still his home and he’s also not a tourist who loves bringing back souvenirs and clothes like Viktor.

He threads the straps of Yuuri’s bag through the handle of his rolling suitcase and wheels it to the front of the truck. He glimpses the siblings hugging each other, but ignores it and brings the other bags up so that they’re all together. Leaning against the bumper, eyes cast down to the suitcases, Viktor wonders what it’s like to go through all this every year, seeing your family only once a year, having to live so far away and miss so much happening in your hometown. Leaving your family over and over to chase an impossible dream. Viktor doesn’t have to worry about that, because Yakov is pretty much his only family and he travels with Viktor to competitions all the time.

Well, he _was_ Viktor’s only family, until...

 _No, don’t go down that path_ , he thinks to himself. He’s been pushing aside any thoughts of his predicament with Yuuri and now is not the time to start dredging it back up. Yuuri gets out of the car and Mari follows on the other side. Their eyes are a bit red, but Viktor pretends not to notice.

Mari stares at him for a long moment before saying, “Take care of yourself, Nikiforov-san.” She holds out her hand and, just like her father, shakes it awkwardly before saying something to Yuuri in low Japanese and ruffling his hair fondly. She waits to leave until they’re in the station, Viktor wheeling his two bags with Yuuri’s on top, and his backpack on his back. Yuuri had half heartedly told Viktor he could carry his own bag, but he still looked half dead on his feet, so Viktor had shrugged him off. They got their tickets and found the platform; Yuuri sat on a bench the moment they got there, eyes fluttering closed once again nas they waited. Viktor arranged their things around them and settled next to Yuuri, eyes on the board letting them know what trains were coming and when. He found the one that matched the symbols on his ticket and when there were only a few minutes left, and people were beginning to stand, he nudged Yuuri awake.

Yuuri blinked rapidly, pushing his glasses up and looking at the board. “Oh, it is almost time.” He stretched, and Viktor forced his eyes away from the sliver of skin that showed when Yuuri’s shirt rode up slightly. The train arrived exactly on time and they followed the flow of the crowd inside, bags kept out of the way of their fellow passengers. It looked like most people were taking this one to the airport as well, judging by the number of suitcases, but there were some people who carried almost nothing, dressed in sharp business suits and holding onto their briefcases. The ride was somewhat short and silent as Yuuri once again fell asleep, waking up once again to Viktor’s nudge when the train came to their stop.

Again, they followed the flow, making their way to the airport, everything in reverse to that day when Viktor first landed. He’s pretty sure Yuuri just isn’t talking because he’s a cranky morning person, but Viktor can’t shake the feeling that he’s also avoiding talking to _Viktor_. He shakes it off as they check in and Viktor pays the extra fees for his bags to be stored in the plane’s belly. His backpack stays with him as they find seats at their gate and once they’re settled, Viktor tells Yuuri he’ll be back in a moment. He buys them both a cup of coffee, because Yuuri really needs to wake up so he’ll be able to sleep at a decent time when they get home, and grabs a couple of pastries and extra bottles of water as well.

Yuuri smiles gratefully at him with his offering and they sit silently while they eat. It’s not until Yuuri returns from throwing their trash away that he really says anything to Viktor.

“Did you have a good trip?”

Viktor is so startled by the actual talking that it takes him a few moments to reply. “I did, thank you again for showing me your town.”

Yuuri nods, fiddling anxiously with the strap of his backpack. “I am glad you have fun; everyone really liked you.”

It’s so painfully awkward, Viktor doesn’t know how they don’t just burst into flames of tension. He needs to say something; _they_ need to talk about this, more than just blowing it off like they had the night before. “Yuuri-”

Of course, before he can get any other words out, _of course_ that’s when the loudspeaker crackles to life to announce their flight is now boarding. Yuuri shoots up, grabbing his backpack and the bundle that is his boarding pass and passport. They shuffle into line and onto the plane and the moment is lost. Viktor doesn’t manage to work up the courage to say anything else the entire flight, only answering when Yuuri talks to him, head buried into a book otherwise. They land and disembark and go through the long process of customs separately, Yuuri going to the foreigner side and Viktor to the nationals. Viktor is finished faster than Yuuri and waits on the other side for him, gathering their bags and shifting on his feet.

Yakov finds him before Yuuri comes through, his face set in grim lines. He bitches about Viktor’s new nose piercing, but apparently notices his mood because he stops after only a few minutes. Yuuri gets the same gruff hello when he finally joins them, but seeing that he didn’t put any new holes in his face, Yakov leaves it at that. They make their way out to the car and to the house; Viktor sees Yakov shoot them weird looks the entire time and realizes that he’s used to them talking constantly together. He shrugs it off for now, intending on telling Yakov it’s just tiredness from the trip home, but he knows that won’t hold up for long. Viktor needs to fix this and fast, before either adult gets suspicious.

It’s late by the time they get to the house, the lights almost all turned off, save for the one outside the front door. They unload their bags and haul them inside, only to be bowled over by their dogs the moment they step through the door. Yakov sighs in exasperation as they both drop everything to get down to the dogs level, effectively blocking the doorway. He shoos them inside before locking the door and hanging up his hat.

“You both begin practice tomorrow morning, so I suggest you get to bed soon,” he warns, already walking upstairs. They both call out a “yes, sir” to his back and begin the process of untangling themselves from the dogs. The walk upstairs for them is as silent as the rest of the day has been and it’s painful to Viktor in a way he never imagined it would be between them. He softly tells Yuuri good night as they separate at their doors and Yuuri gives him a small, awkward smile. Viktor hates himself for causing this, but he tells himself he’s going to fix it.

Life moves on. Things don’t get better.

In fact, if anything, they get worse.

Lilia is fully in remission and healing well, according to her. This apparently means that she has enough strength in her for the fighting between her and Yakov to start back up in all in ferocity. Yuuri is looking thinner and his eyes have ever darkening circles under them, but Viktor doesn’t feel like he can ask about them.

Being back on the ice helps a lot, but Yakov still isn’t letting him skate for near as long as he would like. Once he’s kicked off the ice for the day, Viktor goes to the gym, working off the excess weight from being injured, earbuds shoved in his ears with music playing constantly so that he can put off thinking for just a little longer. When he’s not at the gym, he’s at the studio, fine tuning his moves and building up leg strength.

It’s there that he sees it, about two months after they get back from Japan. He’s tired from a long day of skating and the gym before he hit the studio, avoiding going back to the disaster that is his current home life. Yakov was in a foul mood this morning and nothing that happened during practice seemed to erase that irritability, so there’s sure to be fighting going on now. But it’s late and he still has to get up early tomorrow for more work, gearing up for the first real competition of the season. He towels off his face and drapes it across his shoulders, tugging on the ends of the white cotton as he heads towards his locker. Movement at the other end of the hall catches his eye.

It’s Yuuri, leaning into someone, his head tilted up as he pulls them down into a kiss. The other person's arms wrap around Yuuri’s waist as Yuuri’s arms go around their neck, his delicate dancers feet lifting up on his toes so he can get closer to the taller boy. It lasts for several seconds before Viktor manages to turn his eyes away, hurry to get his things and leave before Yuuri sees him or reality sets in, whichever happens first.

It’s not until he’s sitting in his car, keys in the ignition, and somehow already pulled into the driveway, that it hits him.

He might be in love with Yuuri, but that didn’t mean Yuuri loved him back, at least not in the same way. He was obviously not interested in Viktor romantically, had clearly rather have kissed someone else than Viktor, and he had been avoiding Viktor just as much as Viktor had been avoiding him. He had waited too long to try to bring up that kiss and now, Yuuri was lost to him forever.

That night, Viktor couldn’t sleep. He’s reminded of the night after the kiss, when he spent the whole time worrying that this exact thing would happen, but tonight, he’s planning. He can’t stay here anymore, and honestly, he could have moved out any time in the past couple of years, but he had stayed for Yuuri’s sake. Now, though, Yuuri doesn’t need him, he’s older and can deal with the fighting between the adults, and things are so painfully raw that Viktor needs to leave for his own mental health. He pulls out pen and paper and starts planning on what he’ll need, how much the cost would be, which neighborhoods were okay and which to avoid. It all goes onto the paper and it’s cathartic, in its own way.

He doesn’t tell anyone his plans, simply skips the studio the next day and goes looking for an apartment to lease. He turns in applications to the ones that are pet friendly, because there’s no way he’s giving up his beloved Makkachin. He gathers empty boxes and stealthily takes them up to his room, slowly packing everything that he can over the next couple of weeks between his regular training schedule and touring apartments, signing the lease papers on one he likes and setting up the move in date.

They all find out one way or another. Yakov becomes enraged when Viktor tells him he’s going to skip a day of practice, demanding to know why, and so Viktor has to tell him that he’s moving and needs the whole day off to get all of his boxes to his new place.

Lilia finds out when the moving truck comes early in the morning, loading up the boxes and Viktor’s bed. Her lips are pursed unfavoratively, but she doesn’t say a thing. Instead, she surprises him by pulling him into her arms after the truck leaves but before Viktor can climb into his car. It’s awkward, because Lilia is always light with affection, but still surprisingly warm and he accepts it without a word, hugging her back.

Yuuri… he doesn’t tell Yuuri, doesn’t see Yuuri before he goes, and apparently no one had told him until later that day because he gets a text from Yuuri that night. He’s sitting in the middle of his new living room on the floor, back against the brand new couch he had delivered earlier, head in his hands as the magnitude of what he’s done presses in on him. He’d never lived alone before…

 _From Yuuri Katsuki:_ _  
_ _Lilia and Yakov told me you moved out???_

Viktor stares at the message for several long moments before his phone buzzes again several times in a row.

 _From Yuuri Katsuki:_  
_Is it because of me?_  
_Because of what happened?_  
_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad._ _  
Please don’t be mad at me._

His heart breaks with each new text because he never meant to make Yuuri feel like it was his fault when it was the complete opposite. It’s Viktor’s fault, it all his, he screwed up and now he’s made Yuuri blame himself. He takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how to word things so that Yuuri knows the blame lies completely on Viktor’s shoulders.

 _To Yuuri Katsuki:_ _  
_ _no, i did not leave because of u please do not think that. i need to live alone now i am adult and i do not want to have things bad between us. u never make me mad but i do not want to make u sad. we always be friends yuura, i promise._

Viktor waits until the message sends before he turns off his phone and starts crying, his body shaking with sobs. Makka whines, pawing at his leg and nudging her face under his arm until he gives in and wraps them around her. He cries into her soft brown fur until he can’t cry anymore.

888

Life moves on.

Most things don’t change. He goes to the rink and skates until he’s exhausted or, more often, Yakov kicks him out. He goes to the gym when he can’t skate. He finds a new studio to dance at.

He doesn’t text Yuuri unless Yuuri texts him first, and after the first couple of weeks, those texts become far and few between. It’s not until after his second GPF qualifier that he realizes that it’s been over a month since Yuuri had last texted, and nearly two months since he’d seen Yuuri face to face.

He doesn’t call. He doesn’t email or text or reach out in any way. A clean break is what’s best for his heart. He can’t help himself, though, sending Yuuri a birthday present through the post, a signed poster of his favorite dancer that Viktor had to call in few favors to procure, but he still thinks it’s worth it. He adds a card, signed by himself and even adds Makka’s footprint on there. It’s the closest he can get to saying happy birthday.

He tries to forget, loses himself in drinks and parties and a string of bodies strewn over many countries. Nothing helps for long, the drinks heavy in his stomach, the long list of lovers overall unsatisfying. They aren’t who he wants, but he tries anyway, because who he wants is the one person he can’t have.

Yakov tells him two days before they leave for the Finals that he and Lilia are getting divorced. Viktor’s not surprised, but he’s still so wrapped up in his own issues that he can’t muster up too much of a reaction. It’s a long time coming and they all knew it, but he pats Yakov on the shoulder and brings him a bottle of vodka the next day. Yakov is keeping the house and he tells Viktor he’s welcome to move back in, but Viktor is finally settled in his new place and really doesn’t want to. Yakov understands and tells him the offer is always open.

888

He wins gold at the Final, which surprises no one and irks Viktor, because while he was technically perfect, emotionally, he sucked. His movements were lifeless, his face a blank mask, none of the beauty of the piece conveyed in his steps. Did he win just because of his name? Did no one really judge him because he’s the “Living Legend” of figure skating?

He cares, but also can’t bring himself to care _that_ much. He doesn’t argue, just accepts his medal, _wave to the crowd, put on a smile, pretend you’re okay._

Life is dull and the sport that once brought him so much joy now feels cold as the ice he skates on.

Russian Nationals also nets him a gold medal, one that’s easily tossed into a drawer when he gets home, forgotten almost as soon as the drawer is closed. He debates on showering before noticing a package sitting on his counter with the rest of his mail. Picking it up, Viktor notes the small size and light weight. His curiosity gets the better of him and, using a letter opener, he slices open the taped ends and down the middle. A familiar smell lingers when he opens it.

Inside are four paper cranes in a variety of colors, as well as a sensu that Viktor had seen and fawned over during their stay in Hasetsu, but hadn’t bought for one reason or another. Tears he thought he was done crying welled up again and he pulls each item out one by one. He doesn’t need to look to know who it’s from, because there’s only one person who makes Viktor paper cranes.

At the bottom is a card with a lovely poem on it written in romaji. He cries as he reads it, painstakingly translating it in his head. Inside is a small note from Yuuri wishing him a happy birthday and two tickets to a ballet that Viktor assumes he’s in. The tears don’t stop as he carries everything to his bedroom, Makka at his heels whining at his distress. The cranes go on top of his dresser, lined up with the ones from years before, and the sensu is spread open and propped up on his vanity, keeping it out of the way until Viktor can decide where he wants to hang it on his walls. The card goes with him as he lies down, eyes reading the words over and over until they’re too tired to do more and flutter close.

888

He goes to the ballet by himself. Sitting in the dark of the theater, Viktor watches Yuuri star in a beautiful story that he fails to follow because any time that Yuuri is on the stage, he can’t take his eyes off of him. He’s certain Yuuri sees him, but Viktor doesn’t linger after, simply sends a bouquet of flowers with a note telling him how amazing he had been and thanking him for the tickets.

Yuuri doesn’t reach out to him.

Viktor doesn’t reach out either.

888

Three weeks later, he finds himself sitting on his couch, the tv playing some trashy soap opera with the volume turned down low, brushing his long hair. It’s just past the swell of his butt now, really too long to do anything with and steadily becoming a nuisance when he’s trying to skate. He’s hit with a memory, Yuuri’s fingers in his hair, gently tugging the strands in order, a tight, even braid. It’s sudden and painful and his stomach clenches as he realizes he’ll never have that again, that the last time Yuuri had braided his hair was truly the _last time_.

The next day, he sets an appointment with his stylist and has him cut the whole thing off. He plays light and airy, _no real reason, I’m just looking for a change, have to keep surprising everyone!_ The words are hollow to his own ears, but his stylist says nothing, only asks for his input and then goes at it when Viktor tells him that he trusts his opinion.

It’s a shock when he’s turned around and sees what’s been done.

It’s short, shorter than he’s had it since he was seven, probably. The front is still somewhat long, covering his receding hairline, and the back is much shorter, feeling non existent after having so much hair for so long, but he can feel the slight hairs there when he runs his fingers over the nape.

“What do you think?” his stylist asks.

“I think everyone will be surprised,” Viktor replies. His hair is too short to braid now.

888

He smiles fake smiles.

He waves to fans, and accepts medals, and works hard until he falls asleep every night exhausted.

How much longer can he keep it up?

888

Drinking helps, he finds. Drinking and even more lovers that he goes through like a box of kleenex. There’s no substance, just mindless things that get him through the day. Chris comes for a visit after Worlds and they plow through the party scene like two men on a mission.

Drinking, sex, drinking, sex, _drinkingsexdrinkingsex_ until it’s all a whirl of bright lights and darkness.

He doesn’t think of Yuuri.

(Except that he does.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahaha I'm not okay are y'all okay? I'm really sorry this is so short, but it seemed natural to end there. If it seems kinda rushed, I do apologize. If it seems odd and discombobulated, that's mostly intentional because Viktor isn't processing everything the way he should and, since he's our narrator, we're seeing his perspective on everything.
> 
> A sensu is a traditional Japanese hand fan.
> 
> So I finally broke and asked my doctor for some happy pills and I've written more this past week than I have in the past two months, so I guess they're working. Hoping that means I can get the next one out faster. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me so far!


	7. 2007-2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is going to be a little bit different in that we're going to jump around, both in time and in character POV. If this doesn't work out, I won't do it again, but the characters were screaming at me when I started this new one and, hey, I managed to get 6k words written in less than a week? Feel free to (NICELY, PLEASE, I AM A SMOL SAD PERSON) tell me what you think of this style! The next chapter would likely be the only other one that's like this, then back to Viktor only.
> 
> 2007: Viktor is 19, Yuuri is 16  
> 2008: Viktor is 20, Yuuri is 17  
> 2011: Viktor is 22, Yuuri is 19

**Yakov (August-October 2007)**

Yakov knows from the moment he sees Viktor standing on the other side of customs desks that something is wrong. A day, _an hour,_ with Yuuri is enough to make Viktor obnoxiously happy, and right now, he looks completely miserable. Their luggage is around him and he’s staring blankly at the line that non-natives use. He takes in everything about Viktor’s appearance, but he’s pretty much the same as before, except…

“Viktor, what is that thing your nose?” he booms the moment he gets close to his pupil. Viktor turns and gives him a smile that’s nowhere near as blinding as his usual “I’m smiling to distract you so I can get away with something” smile.

“Yakov! Did you miss me?”

He did, but he’ll also never tell Viktor that. Instead, he complains about the new piercing, but Viktor doesn’t really engage him past that initial hello, his body stiff and awkward in a way that Yakov has never seen before in this particular student. Viktor is the very definition of loose and happy, always, even when he’s faking it. He eventually runs out of steam and the two of them wait until Yuuri joins them, and that’s when Yakov really begins to worry.

Typically when they pick Yuuri up from the airport, he’s nothing but happy smiles, but today he looks worse than Viktor. He greets Yakov quietly and doesn’t say anything to Viktor. He catches a few glances between the two, but nothing is said the entire trip home.

 _It’s fine,_ Yakov thinks, _I’ll get one of them to talk soon._

But a week later and there’s still an awkwardness in the house and not the usual one due to his and Lilia’s animosity. Instead, he has to watch as the two of them skate around each other, as though _they’re_ the ones who are fighting, but the tension in the air isn’t anything like fighting. It’s almost as if… as if they had a lover's quarrel, he realizes. It’s slightly disturbing for him, since he sees them both as his children, but that’s the way it seems. He wants to ask, but unless directly involved, Yakov has a strict policy about interfering with his student’s lives.

As the weeks pass, he watches as Yuuri gets thinner, looks even more fragile under the stress, and Viktor works himself to exhaustion every single day. There are days when Yakov has to literally pull him off of the ice. He either goes to the gym or to the studio after that, Yakov never knows which, but he’s obviously somewhere because he’s not home when Yakov gets there.

After a couple of months, Viktor comes skating up to the boards after Yakov shows his newest student, a young boy of 7 who shows a lot of promise and whose grandfather is an old friend of Yakov’s, how to properly lace up their boots so that they’re not too loose or too tight. He shooes little Yuri onto the ice, one eye on him as he says, “What do you want, Vitya?”

“I need to take tomorrow off from practice,” Viktor says bluntly.

Yakov looks at him sharply. “What.”

“Tomorrow. Off day. Me.”

“Why?”

Here, Viktor looks shifty. “I just do, that’s all.”

“Viktor, now is not the time to start slacking, competitions start soon and-”

“Yakoooov-”

“You’re still not up to your pre-injury strength-”

Finally Viktor sighs and tells him, “I need the day off to move into my new apartment.”

This stops him. “What?” Viktor has lived with him so long, the words are almost incomprehensible.

“I didn’t want to say anything until it was done,” Viktor says with a shrug. “I just feel like it’s time for me to move on with the next part of my life.” His voice cracks ever so slightly, but he makes it through.

“Viktor, is this about-”

“Just stop it, Yakov.” Viktor’s voice is as cold as ice. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow.” He doesn’t look back, just skates off and leaves Yakov to wonder what has happened between Viktor and Yuuri to turn them into such shells of each other.

888

The next morning, Lilia storms into his bedroom after the sounds of the movers are done and the truck holding Viktor’s things pulls away.

“Did you know about this?” she asks.

“Only since yesterday,” Yakov sighs, rubbing his forehead. This doesn’t feel like the beginning of an argument and, honestly, Yakov is too tired to go toe-to-toe with anyone anyway.

Lilia doesn’t say anything for several minutes. “Something happened, Yasha. Yuuri will not tell me anything, but all the passion he once had seems gone. I asked him if he is mad at Viktor, but he will only say that something happened in Japan. They’re both hurting and for the first time in a long time, I don’t know what to do.”

Yakov reaches over and takes her hand in his, squeezing gently. “I don’t either. All we can do is… is wait. I think this is something they have to fix on their own.”

They stand there for several minutes, both sorting out their emotions, until Lilia finally lets go. “I need to get to the studio, Yuuri is already there and I doubt he knows about Viktor yet.”

He nods, still staring mindlessly out the window. Before Lilia can leave, he snaps out of it. “Wait. Don’t tell him at the studio, it will ruin his whole day. And… I think we should tell him together.” He turns around and Lilia just looks at him for a long moment before nodding in agreement.

That night, they sit Yuuri down in the living room. His face is drawn and tight and his hands are clenched anxiously between his knees.

“I am sorry, Madame Baranovskaya, I will do better next time,” Yuuri whispers.

“What?”

“No, Yuuri, this is not about your dancing,” Lilia says softly, putting a hand on Yakov’s knee to stop him from saying anything else. “We need to talk to you about Viktor.”

At this, Yuuri’s head shoots up, eyes wide and fearful. “I- Please don’t send me away, I will make friend with him again, please, I do better!” The words come out wavering and Yuuri’s eyes water.

“What?” Yakov asks again, so much more confused than before.

“What?” Lilia echoes, and he gratified that she’s confused too.

“We have, uhm, fight, no, not fight, we have… fall out? But I not let it keep me from doing better, please, do not send me back to Japan, I want stay here.”

Lilia gets up and moves to sit next to Yuuri on the couch, folding him into her arms. “No, we are not sending you back to Japan.” Yuuri visibly deflats. “We know things have been… ah, not good between you and Viktor lately, but I would not send you back unless you wanted to go,” she tells him firmly.

“Yuurochka, we only wanted to tell you that Viktor has moved out,” Yakov says, hoping to erase the misery from his face, but instead it crumples even further and he lets out a sob. Yakov exchanges a look with Lilia, who looks just as confused as him, but before either of them can say anything, Yuuri takes a deep breath and follows that with a string of angry sounding Japanese. He swipes at the tears tracking down his gaunt cheeks and starts mumbling to himself, his small frame shaking. With anger or tears, they’re not sure.

“-all my fault-”

“No, Yuuri, it’s not,” Lilia says firmly. “Viktor made this decision, it has nothing to do with-”

“I should have told him that I- I should have told him,” Yuuri sobs. Nothing they say calms him down and eventually he gets up and goes to his room, leaving them staring after him, speechless and wondering what had happened.

888

**Yuuri (October 2007)**

His chest _hurts_ , a dull but painful ache that hasn’t gone away since the night… _that_ night. Viktor hasn’t spoken to him since the airport, has barely _looked_ at him in months, only ever when he thinks Yuuri can’t see him. His best friend in the whole world, and Yuuri ruined it. It’s all his fault and now Viktor is _gone_ and Yuuri doesn’t even know when he’ll see him again.

He’s pacing his room when he suddenly realizes that he can talk to Viktor.

Texting is still very new to him, his fingers clumsy on the keyboard of his flip phone, but he manages to get a text written out.

 _To Vitya:_ _  
_ _Lilia and Yakov told me you moved out???_

There’s no reply for several minutes and Yuuri panics, fingers flying over the keyboard much quicker than he normally manages, each message more instinct than thought.

 _To Vitya:_  
_Is it because of me?_  
_Because of what happened?_  
_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad._ _  
Please don’t be mad at me._

His heart is pounding in his chest as he stares at his phone after the last message sends, willing it to light up with a reply. It doesn’t take long this time, and Yuuri opens the message with trembling fingers and a pounding heart.

 _From Vitya:_ _  
_ _no, i did not leave because of u please do not think that. i need to live alone now i am adult and i do not want to have things bad between us. u never make me mad but i do not want to make u sad. we always be friends yuura, i promise._

Yuuri stares at the message. He’s pretty sure he can physically feel his heart breaking, it hurts so badly. He’s done it. He’s really and truly lost his best friend. He doesn’t care what Viktor says about them always being friends, he knows that everything has changed and they’ll never be what they once were.

And now, maybe, they’ll never be what he always hoped they would be.

Yuuri stares at the words until they blur in his vision and he falls into a restless sleep.

He goes through the motions day after day after day.

Lilia moves them into her old apartment a few months later. The last part of what he had with Viktor is cut away with the last box that’s loaded into the moving truck. Yakov tells him that he’s always welcome at the rink, but Yuuri already knows he can’t go back there. Things have changed too much and even thinking about stepping back on the rink sends pangs running through him. He focuses all of his energy on becoming a beautiful monster, a _principle dansuer_ worthy of instruction by one of the greatest dancers in Russia.

He does his best to move forward with his life, his career, his love. Looking back hurts too much, after all.

888

**Phichit (March 2008)**

International travel is always draining, but Phichit’s theory is that if it gets you somewhere new, it can’t be all bad!

(This, of course, is not applied to being kidnapped.)

Anyway, skate camp! Phichit was very excited about being back and possibly seeing Yuuri again. He hadn’t been at camp the last two years and his emails have been very sporadic lately, which isn’t like him. They’ve also been short and devoid of any real information about what’s going on. When Phichit had mentioned coming to Yakov’s skate camp and asked if Yuuri was going to be back, Yuuri hadn’t replied at all. Phichit knows something has happened, but reasons that it can’t be too bad, because Yuuri has been emailing him and they exchanged boxes every so often, but something… something changed last year.

So Phichit goes to camp with a smile and a hope that Yuuri will be there. He gets checked in, greeting friends from past camps and gets his belongings stowed away. He eats lunch, watches the first day introductions, makes new friends in his age group as they play the introduction games, though most of them are familiar with each other at this point. The whole time, though, Phichit is scanning the crowd, looking for the one person he wants to see.

He finally spots Viktor and immediately looks behind him, but Yuuri isn’t there. The sight is so strange that it takes Phichit a full minute to process it and he gets gently scolded by his group teacher because of it. Afterwards, all the groups are settled and eating dinner and Coach Feltsman stands up at the head of the room.

“I would like to introduce you to a new teacher, Viktor Nikiforov. He’s going to be working with the 13 through 15 year olds. Viktor is _not_ here to sign autographs,” Coach Feltsman adds sternly, giving Phichit flashbacks of the last time Viktor was a camp, and he smiles before remembering that, last time, Yuuri had been here too. His smile leaves as quick as it came.

Viktor makes his way over to their group after dinner has finished and quickly gets introduced to everyone. He gives Phichit an extra wide smile, but up close, Phichit notices that he looks exhausted. Viktor chats with them for a few moments before they’re told to start getting settled in for the night. Lights out isn’t for a while yet, it’s more time for them to start winding down, so Phichit hangs back, lightly touching the back of Viktor’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Oh, hello, Phichit!” Viktor says when he realizes who it is. His smile is mostly genuine, but there’s still that level of exhaustion that tugs at the corners. “Are you having fun yet?”

“The real fun starts tomorrow!” Phichit laughs, because he really does love being on the ice. “But I wanted to ask you something. It’s about Yuuri.”

He can see the change that comes over Viktor’s face the moment Yuuri’s name comes out of his mouth. His mouth tightens, his eyes squint ever so slightly, his jaw clenches. It’s subtle enough, but Phichit is staring right at him and it’s impossible to miss.

“I, ah, I haven’t seen Yuuri in some time,” Viktor says, looking away.

When he doesn’t offer anything else, Phichit prods, “Is he okay? He barely replies to my emails now, I’m really worried.”

“Phichit, we really- I haven’t seen or spoken to Yuuri in a couple of years, okay? Something happened, something _private_ , and I don’t want to talk about it.”

He looks frustrated and angry and upset and Phichit didn’t mean for this to happen. He physically takes a step back. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry, I just was worried about him. He’s been different-” for about two years now, actually. _Well. That actually explains a lot._

“Please, talk to Yakov about this, I can’t-” Viktor stops and turns, walking away from Phichit without ever finishing his sentence.

888

Coach Feltsman is slightly better than Viktor when it comes to news, but his is still limited to “He’s fine, working hard, get back to skating.” He’s at least no more gruff than usual.

Phichit sighs and does what he’s told, but it’s still odd, still nags at him that no one will talk about Yuuri and Yuuri wouldn’t talk to him. He spends the rest of camp trying to decide what to do and by the time he gets back to Thailand, he’s already drafted an email in his head. He types it out, telling Yuuri all about the flight to Russia and the new friends he made at camp and how he created an account on this website called Twitter and Yuuri should totally join so they can Tweet at each other!

He adds a few lines at the end, almost like a postscript.

_Viktor was working with my group this year, which was really cool! I missed you lots, and I think he did too. He’s different, I don’t know how to explain it? He looks really sad and no one would talk about you. Please tell me that you’re okay, Yuuri. Are you dying?_

He signs off with just his name, no flourishes or silly Thai proverbs and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Finally, when he’s at the point where he’s about to start convincing his parents book a flight back to Russia, a reply comes.

It’s long and reads more like word vomit than an actual cohesive email, but Yuuri tells him everything, how he’s been in love with Viktor for years and the two kisses they shared. How Viktor said the second one had been a mistake that they should forget and how badly Yuuri wanted that to not be true.

_I wish he didn’t think it was a mistake, Phichit. I love him so much, but now he doesn’t even talk to me. I tried to go see him at the rink but I couldn’t even make it to the doors before I was crying. Lilia has me channeling my pain into dance and tells me I’ve never been more beautiful, but holding on to this pain is wearing me down too fast._

_I don’t know how to be what he wants me to be. I don’t know who he wants me to be. When will I ever be good enough to deserve him?_

The words shatter Phichit’s glass heart, aching for his friend. He wants to fly to Russia and kick Viktor Nikiforov’s ass all the way back to Thailand. He wants to wrap Yuuri in his arms and let him cry until every last tear he has for Viktor is gone. He wants-

He wants a lot of things that he knows he can’t have, but mostly he wants to be okay, to return to that camp from years ago and see Yuuri smiling shyly at them. He wants Yuuri to not hurt, and for once in his life, Phichit Chulanont is helpless to make a friend feel better.

888

**Viktor (October 2011)**

These days, Viktor feels like he can’t walk anywhere without seeing a poster of Yuuri’s newest ballet. His serene face shines down on Viktor from every street corner, every shop window. If not from posters, then trashy tabloids that theorize some drama or his latest beau. Yuuri’s face has haunted him for the past four years, but it seems to have become worse as of late.

He’s proud of Yuuri, _he is_ , he’s only ever wanted success and happiness for his best friend, but for some reason, seeing his face so often but not _seeing_ him has irked Viktor in a way he can’t describe. It’s an itch under his skin that nothing slakes, a burning in his gut, and he blames that for the fact that he impulsively purchases front row seats to the opening night of Yuuri’s newest ballet.

He’s gone to every single one of Yuuri’s shows, but always towards the back, carefully hidden so that he won’t be seen. He’s watched the love of his life dance and dance and dance, making everyone else fall in love with him, and known that the one thing he truly wants is the one thing he can’t have.

He’s always too thin when Viktor sees him. Too thin and his eyes don’t shine like they used to. He’s still so heart achingly beautiful, but the way he moves now is so different than what Viktor remembers, a subtle pain rippling under his skin, a small nuance of unhappiness under the surface of smiles. It makes for good dancing, but it still hurts Viktor to see. He doesn’t think anyone else sees it, but Viktor spent years cataloging everything about Yuuri.

The ballet is phenomenal, which comes as no surprise, and when Yuuri is playfully shoved forward to take his bow, he receives a standing ovation and not even his stage makeup is enough to hide his blush. He bows and waves, turning to acknowledge every part of the audience, and Viktor knows the exact moment Yuuri spots him. His smile falters just slightly, his eyes widening and his hand stops waving. Viktor even imagines he sees Yuuri’s lips form his name, _Vicchan_ , before he pulls himself back together and continues to thank everyone for coming. The cast leaves the stage and Viktor sits back down, casually gathering his things together and waiting until the press of the crowd lessens enough that leaving won’t be obnoxious.

Apparently it’s also long enough for a burly security guy to find him and tell him that Mr. Katsuki asked for him to join him backstage.

Viktor freezes. He hadn’t expected this. On some level, he assumed there would be some acknowledgement, like what Yuuri had done on stage, though he wasn’t sure how he would be received, but going backstage? Seeing Yuuri face to face for this first time in four years? Was Viktor even prepared for that?

He didn’t really have a choice, did he? Maybe they could repair the friendship they once had before he had ruined everything.

Standing and gathering his coat, Viktor smiles charmingly at the man and gestures for him to lead the way. They go through a side door, dodging the production crew as they put things away for the night, congratulating each other on a show well done as they worked. Down, down, down they went, until they reached a door. The man rapped his knuckles on it and Viktor hears Yuuri call out to enter. The man jerks his head towards the room and then leaves Viktor standing there, hand hovering over the knob as he gathers his courage.

Yuuri is alone in what is obviously his dressing room. He’s not looking at Viktor, his back is turned and he’s grumbling under his breath when the door opens, but he’s there…

“Anya, can you help me, this zipper is stuck and I- oh.” He finally turns around and sees who’s standing at his door.

Yuuri is even more beautiful than Viktor remembers.

He’s right that Yuuri’s face is more drawn than before, but his eyes are now sparkling when they land on Viktor, rooting his feet to the spot.

“Vicchan!” Yuuri cries, abandoning his costume change and hurrying over to throw his arms around Viktor’s shoulders. He reacts automatically, his arms wrapping around Yuuri, noting how differently his body lines up with Viktor’s, how he smells slightly of sweat and lingering stage makeup and hairspray. How warm and right everything feels for a brief moment of time. But of course Yuuri pulls back eventually, his smile big and bright as he stares up at Viktor.

“Hello Yuuri. You were magnificent out there,” Viktor says, taking a half step back but keeping Yuuri’s hands in his. “You were always beautiful, but that ballet… Just phenomenal.”

Yuuri blushes, waving off the words. “You always say that-”

“Because it’s always true! You never give yourself enough credit, you know.” Yuuri laughs, but he doesn’t pull his hands away, just looks up at Viktor with a smile. “Tell me, how have you been?”

Yuuri opens his mouth to reply just as a knock sounds on the door behind Viktor. “Yes?”

A head pokes in. “They need your costume back, Mr. Katsuki,” the girl says, eyes flicking over to Viktor and widening when she realizes who he is.

“Oh, yes! Anya, do you mind helping me, this zipper is stuck and I don’t want to tear anything.”

Viktor steps away and watches the ease with which they talk to each other as the girl gets the zipper unstuck and Yuuri ducks behind a set of curtains, handing the girl the clothes through a slit. She’s already gone when he steps back out, dressed in casual jeans and a tshirt.

“I’m sorry about that, Vicchan, there’s something wrong with the costume, I keep _telling_ -” Yuuri cuts himself off with a shake of his head and turns his smile back to Viktor. “It’s really good to see you. I was hoping you still had your habit of lingering after a show,” he adds, chuckling softly.

“How are you, Yuuri, really?” Viktor asks when the silence in the room doesn’t seem to be going away. It’s not awkward; if pressed, Viktor would say that it was more of an unsure silence than anything.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and smiles, a real smile, full and happy and just for Viktor. “I’m okay, just tired. It’s always hectic around opening night. Would you-” he hesitates, “would you want to get something to eat? There’s a place down the road, we can catch up?” The end of the sentence goes up, like it’s a question if Viktor would want to spend more time with Yuuri.

“I’d love to.”

888

A late night dinner with Yuuri brings about a lot of really nice, old memories. They spend hours there, catching up on the past few years, laughing at old jokes, talking about old friends. They skate around the event that changed everything and pretend it never happened. The food is good and the company better, so much so that Viktor feels bold enough to ask Yuuri if he’d like to come to his place for a cup of tea. Yuuri agrees easily and they talk the whole cab ride over.

Yuuri reaquaints himself with Makka for several minutes; Viktor can hear him cooing at her from the kitchen where he’s heating up water. He opens the cabinet where he keeps his drinks and looks around for the tea bags. As he’s pulling out two boxes, he hears Yuuri come up behind him. “I’m afraid I don’t have your favorite, but I do have-”

He never tells Yuuri what he does have because the moment he turns around, Yuuri is there, kissing him. The boxes fall to the ground as he takes his love into his arms and kisses him back, soft and searching at first, before it turns firmer, more sure. He feels Yuuri’s hands exploring the muscles of his back through the fabric of his shirt, warm and firm and _real_. They kiss and touch until the kettle whistles, jolting them apart. They both laugh nervously, stepping apart enough for Viktor to turn of the stove and move the kettle.

“Do you-”

“I don’t want any tea,” Yuuri says before he’s kissing Viktor again.

For all that this is what he’s wanted for years now, Viktor hesitates. This… what is this? Does this change things? What does this mean for them? Did Yuuri…

Viktor makes himself stop and just go with the flow. The love of his life is in his arms, kissing him like it’s their last night on earth, and Viktor wants to keep this moment happy. So he kisses and touches and moves them towards the couch, stopping only when Yuuri breaks away.

“No, wait, I- Show me your room?” Yuuri says awkwardly. They’re so close together that Viktor can feel the way Yuuri’s body heats up with a blush.

Viktor stares at him for several long moments, not wanting to believe, not knowing if they _should_ , before Yuuri whispers, “Please?” and Viktor is gone. He pulls Yuuri back to him, leading him to the bedroom with their lips still connected. He keeps his place minimalistic and clean, so the only real worry is tripping over Makka, but they make it to the bedroom unscathed. He pulls back enough to ask, “What do you want?”

“What?”

“I don’t want to push you too far, what do you want from me?”

A look flashes across Yuuri’s face, but it’s too dark to really tell what it was. “I want whatever you’ll give me,” Yuuri says, leaning forward again and catching Viktor’s protest with his lips. Viktor wants to push back, to understand what Yuuri means, but then Yuuri takes one of the hands clutching the back of his shirt and brings it down to rest on his ass and this is almost straight out of one of teenage Viktor’s fantasies.

He gives that plump ass a squeeze and everything speeds up. He’s kissing Yuuri hard and fast, backing him up to the bedroom door, slammed shut to keep curious doggies out. His hand trails down Yuuri’s jean covered thigh, gripping it, feeling the hard muscles there as he lifts it to hook around his waist. Their groins press together, sensations dulled by layers of clothes, but for now, it’s enough. Yuuri’s mouth is warm as Viktor slips his tongue in, encouraged by the slight moan it draws out, and his free hand comes up to cup the side of Yuuri’s face. His thumb traces the arch of his cheekbone as Viktor draws back, trying to catch his breath. He presses their foreheads together, staring into Yuuri’s eyes.

_I love you._

Yuuri’s hand comes up to card through the short hairs at the back of his head and Viktor suddenly remembers that the last time Yuuri saw him, his hair had been long. He remembers why he cut it off in the first place and it’s like being punched in the chest and he must stiffen somewhat because Yuuri pulls back every so slightly.

“Vicchan, is everything okay?” His voice is soft and husky, breath ghosting warmly across his cheek.

“Yes, sorry, I just… needed to catch my breath. You’ve always taken my breath away,” he adds teasingly.

As expected, Yuuri blushes and looks away, a pleased smile on his face. Viktor tilts it back towards him and kisses Yuuri again, putting everything he feels into it, willing Yuuri to feel it too. Pressed together so closely, he feels Yuuri’s cock, hard against his own, and his hips buck forward. They both gasp at the friction and Yuuri bites down lightly on Viktor’s bottom lip.

“Take me to bed,” Yuuri murmurs, and, well… Viktor never could tell Yuuri no.

They break apart and fumble their way out of their clothing. Viktor feels like a teenager all over again, nerves thrumming as he takes Yuuri back into his arms and relishes the feeling of naked skin against naked skin. Yuuri kisses him, almost desperately, as Viktor walks them over to his bed. The moment the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he stops and pulls away again.

“Yuuri, are you sure?” he asks. One more time, one more chance to stop this before too much changes once again.

Yuuri doesn’t answer him, simply pushes him down and crawls into his lap, knees bracketing Viktor’s hips. He leans down and kisses Viktor to silence and for the next several minutes, it’s slow movements against each other, fingers tracing the line of a spine, hands cupping cheeks, lips brushing, hips slowly grinding until they’re both hard and panting.

“I need-” Viktor murmurs, and Yuuri pulls back. They take a moment to arrange themselves, Viktor pulling lube and a condom from his bedside table. He moves towards Yuuri again, but Yuuri moves first, positioning Viktor so that he’s propped up against his headboard before Yuuri climbs back into his lap. He leans in for a quick kiss, then takes the lube from Viktor’s hand and pours some onto his fingers and leads them to his waiting hole.

Viktor takes a moment to marvel at this take-charge version of Yuuri before he presses one finger inside of him and begins the process of opening him up. Yuuri gasps against his lips as the finger breeches him and then they’re kissing again, frantically, hips rocking together as Viktor takes his time opening Yuuri up. One finger, two, three, Yuuri moaning and thrusting his hips back as Viktor stretches him open. He wants to use four fingers, his past partners have complained about his size before, but Yuuri apparently can’t wait any longer. His hand gropes around on the bed next to Viktor’s thigh, finally coming up with the condom packet. He rips it open and pinches the tip before sliding it, somewhat clumsily, down Viktor’s cock, all while Viktor fumbles for the lube bottle. Once Yuuri is done, Viktor slicks himself up and, with some maneuvering, lines up with Yuuri’s hole.

He watches Yuuri’s face as he slowly sinks down onto Viktor’s cock, bobbing shallowly as he adjusts. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his eyes are half closed. The head pops through the ring of muscles, tearing a gasp from Yuuri, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps working his way down until finally, after what feels like forever, his luscious plump ass is seated firmly against Viktor’s hips. It’s only then that his eyes open and he looks at Viktor.

“You’re so beautiful,” Viktor says, brushing sweaty bangs out of Yuuri’s face. _I love you so much._

Yuuri turns his face to Viktor’s hand, kissing his palm and holding his hand to his cheek. His other hand comes down to rest on the hard muscles of Viktor’s chest, his eyes boring into Viktor’s, dark in the shadows of the room, but holding Viktor’s gaze all the same. Yuuri lifts himself up slightly, then dropped down slowly. His eyes flutter closed as he does it again and again, working himself up higher and higher as he adjusts to the stretch.

He slips, dropping down hard, and his eye fly open as he lets out a little “Oh!” of surprise. His ass clenches tightly around Viktor’s cock and he groans, hands flying to Yuuri’s hips to steady him as he keeps up the quick pace. Their eyes stay locked on each other, their bodies moving together, and Viktor is sure Yuuri can feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, Yuuri’s hand pressed to Viktor’s pec. The world becomes a blur of _heatdamptightlove lovelovelovelovewant stay with me_ as Viktor makes love to Yuuri, worships his body, baptised in the arms of his love, a new beginning, he _knows_ it.

And then the world goes still, Yuuri clenched tight around him, breathing into each others mouths as their heart beats slow. He keeps Yuuri in his arms as long as he can, but eventually they have to move; as flexible as Yuuri is, even his hips can’t stay in that position forever. He rolls off of Viktor, who goes to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and dampen two washcloths. He halfheartedly wipes himself down and tosses the cloth into his hamper, hurrying back to Yuuri, whose eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling slowly.

The light of the bathroom, reveals what Yuuri’s clothes hid: his chest is thin, almost skeletal, the bones of his ribs prominent and his abdomen nearly concave. Viktor’s worry spikes just as Yuuri’s eyes open. He smiles up at Viktor, but he’s already moving to cover himself, as though realizing what Viktor was staring at.

“I’ll take care of that, Vicchan,” Yuuri says, his voice low and hoarse. He takes the cloth and ducks into the bathroom. Viktor stares after him for a moment, but turns his attention to the bed, quickly stripping off the top layer. He’s suddenly overcome with exhaustion and slides under the remaining covers, facing the bathroom so he can see the moment Yuuri comes back out. He’s excited about everything, the prospect of this whole new world that reconciling with Yuuri will give him, the chance to learn everything about Yuuri that he’s missed in the past four years, the chance to spend the next four, and hopefully all of the rest of their years, _with_ Yuuri.

He doesn’t realize it when his eyes have slipped shut, only that they suddenly open and it’s day outside, the sun low in the sky when he glances past the curtains. The bed next to him is cold, and he hears no evidence that anyone else is moving about the place. There are no extra clothes on the floor, no extra set of shoes that wouldn’t fit Viktor, no anything to tell him that Yuuri is still here. The stripped bed and two damp washcloths in the hamper are the only indication that last night was real, that Yuuri had been there.

Viktor stands in the doorway of his bedroom and looks out at the empty apartment, when suddenly it hits him that Yuuri is gone, really gone, and isn’t coming back. Everything had changed again, leaving Viktor once again heartbroken.

888

**Yuuri**

Yuuri cleans himself up, ignoring the mental barrage of hatred aimed towards himself.

He had _used_ Viktor, slept with him to slake his own desires, with no thought to how Viktor felt about him. He had made it clear years ago that Yuuri wasn’t who he wanted, that kissing him had been a mistake, and Yuuri had just… _forced_ himself on him!

 _It was probably a pity fuck_ , the nasty voice in his head says, and Yuuri agrees. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid, like fall asleep curled in Viktor’s arms, pretending like he has a right to be there. He doesn’t, Viktor deserves more, he deserves the best, not some pathetic boy who had trailed after him like a love sick puppy for years.

Still beating himself up while trying to come up with a good excuse to leave (was that how one-night stands worked? Or did he just leave? Yuuri didn’t know what to expect), he steps out of the bathroom. The light falls across Viktor’s face, relaxed in sleep.

 _That made things a little easier,_ Yuuri thinks. He closes the bathroom until there’s just a sliver of light, enough for him to be able collect his clothes and put them on without waking Viktor. As much as he hates himself for what he’s just done, he can’t stop himself from looking at Viktor one last time. He creeps to the edge of the bed and looks down on the love of his life. The short hair of his bangs falls across his eyes and Yuuri reaches out to softly brush them out of the way.

He’s watched Viktor rise higher and higher in the world of figure skating, to the point where now, no one touches him, no one comes close to beating the Living Legend himself, and he’s watched as Viktor’s face becomes more and more stiff, more fake, than it’s ever been before. He always looks tired to Yuuri, but no one else seems to notice it. He’s fawned over, well loved by most, untouchable to all. Yuuri’s chest aches for him.

Viktor stirs beneath his fingertips and he takes a step back. He needs to leave before things fall apart. He needs to run, to hide, to stop this stupid obsession with his one-time best friend, with the love of his life, before he ruins it all again.

Katsuki Yuuri does something he’s never done before: he turns his back on Viktor Nikiforov and runs away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Should I post this now, it's long and I have a lot more to go on it, or should I just make the next chapter long?  
> SA: Post it now.  
> Me: With that ending?  
> SA: Yes. Do it.  
> Me: AND YOU CALL ME A SADIST
> 
> Again, please be nice to me, I am smol and sad.


	8. 2011-2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I went back and added months to the years in the last chapter, so I hope that helps everyone!
> 
> More time/character POV jumping, and introducing my smol angry son Yurio, who gets a nice long bit because, well, you'll see...

**Viktor (December 2011)**

Viktor remembers when his birthday actually mattered to him. He stopped caring for a while, but when Yuuri came around, it became something special, something to celebrate once again. Of course, Yuuri’s gone now, Viktor hasn’t even seen posters about his new shows or anything, but this year feels more bleak than even before he fucked everything up and made love to Yuuri last year.

Because this is the first year that Viktor hasn’t received a birthday package from Yuuri.

Even after he moved out, he had still sent Yuuri a package in the mail for his birthday, full of little souvenirs from places he’d visited for competitions or photoshoots or something, and always with a note wishing him a happy birthday. Every year, Viktor received one in return with more cranes to join the others on his dresser and little gifts from Japan. It was the only way they had spoken in years, but every year, without fail, Viktor would have a package. He’d even sent his to Yuuri early this year, hoping that maybe things hadn’t been ruined after all. But today is December 25th and no package has come for him, not even a letter or a note, not a text.

He goes through the happy birthday messages on his phone, replying to every one with a thank you, then flips over to this new platform called Instagram that Chris insisted he would like. He uploads a selfie and captions it with his thanks for the warm birthday wishes on this cold Russian morning! He winks and smiles and it looks so damn fake, but no one seems to notice or care.

There’s no one left who knows what real smile looks like.

**Chris (July 2012)**

Chris can say with 99% certainty that he’s Viktor Nikiforov’s best friend these days. They’ve known each other for years now, have followed each other through various social media sites, as well as emails and hanging out whenever they’re at the same competition. They’ve even visited each others countries in the off season and, as far as Chris can tell, Viktor doesn’t spend any significant amount of time with anyone else, so… yeah, Chris is pretty sure they’re best friends.

Which is why it’s a little irritating that Viktor won’t tell him what’s wrong.

Over the years, he’s learned a lot about Viktor and about the pretty dansuer he used to board with, Yuuri. He remembers the first time he saw a picture of Yuuri, his smile and bright eyes, beaming at the camera while Viktor stares at him lovingly. If Chris is being honest, that was when he realized that the secret crush he was harboring towards Viktor would never become anything more, because one look at them and you could just _tell_ that Viktor was completely head over heels in love. Chris doesn’t mind, though it hurt originally, because Viktor’s friendship is an amazing thing. He’s pretty sure he’s one of the few who knows the real Viktor, behind his camera ready smile and soundbite persona.

That’s how he knows that Viktor has been in love with Yuuri for many years and that they haven’t spoken in at least five. Viktor doesn’t talk about him much, but sometimes he gets a far away look in his eyes and Chris knows that he’s thinking about Yuuri. But something changed last year, and Chris thinks he knows what, but any attempts at prying the information from Viktor have proved fruitless. So Chris does what any good friend does in this situation.

He invites Viktor to Switzerland and plies him with drinks in the safety of his own house, putting on terrible soap opera dramas that Viktor is so fond of. They drink and playfully trash talk each other, and he waits until the perfect moment to begin leading the conversation to what he really wants to know.

“So what’s your theme this year?” Chris asks, tongue snaking around the rim of his glass as he chases his straw. His lips are a bit numb at this point, so he knows he’s well on his way to being drunk, and Viktor’s had more than him.

“Ugh, I want to do loneliness, but Yakov is arguing with me,” Viktor groans, tossing back the rest of his drink and leaning forward to pour another one. “He thinks I should do something along the lines of ‘winning’ or some positive crap like that.”

“Loneliness? _Mon cher_ , last year was heartbreak, this year is loneliness, what’s next? ‘I can’t live without you by my side’ or something?” Viktor frowns at him, but Chris is undeterred. “When are you going to tell dear Uncle Christophe what’s wrong?”

“Ew, no way you’re my uncle,” Viktor says, scrunching his nose. Chris just raises an eyebrow at him. He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “I… messed up last year.”

 _Finally._ “How?”

“I went to see Yuuri in his new show.”

Chris fails to see how this has messed up anything, so he nudges Viktor with his toes to get him to keep talking. “And?”

“And… he called me backstage and then we went to dinner and-” Viktor hesitates again, taking another large swallow of his drink. And another. And then he pours another glass and drinks that down.

“Viktor, _cher_ , you really need to slow down,” Chris says worriedly. Even with his “Russian blood” protecting him, this is a quick way for Vitkor to get alcohol poisoning. “You don’t have to talk about-”

“We made love and he left me right after and I don’t know what I did wrong because I tried to tell him how much he means to me but I didn’t want to push my feelings onto him because he obviously doesn’t like me like _that_ but I can’t help that I’m desperately in love with him and apparently all he wants is to have sex with the Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov and not love the real human Viktor,” he explodes, all in a rush with hardly a pause for breath, and then he’s pouring another drink. Chris is glad to see him just sip it this time.

He takes a sip of his own drink, mulling the words over in his head. So Viktor had a one night stand with the love of his life, who apparently doesn’t reciprocate. This is even worse than Chris thought. (It’s the heartbroken look on Viktor’s face that’s killing him.)

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“No, of course not, Chris. _He_ left _me_ , it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t want anything to do with me, so why would I force him to keep talking to me?” Viktor sighs, swiping angrily at his eyes as tear threaten. “He just- He looked so fucking _excited_ to see me and I thought… thought that maybe things had changed. That he realized he loved me back or something like that.” The tears fall steadily from his eyes now, no matter how much he wipes them away. “Why doesn’t he love me back, Chris?”

Chris’ mouth opens and closes a few times, because he honestly doesn’t know how to answer that, if Viktor even _wants_ an answer. Finally, he settles on, “Because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

Viktor lets out an ungentlemanly snort, rolling his eyes, but Chris sees a smile threatening his lips.

“No, he is. If he can’t see what an amazing, talented, beautiful person you are, inside and out, then he doesn’t deserve you.” Chris leans over, wrapping an arm around Viktor’s shoulders, and Viktor’s head immediately flops onto Chris’ shoulder. “He’s an idiot and you’re a catch.”

“But I still love him so much,” Viktor sighs. His body droops, all energy suddenly sapped from him, and Chris takes that as his cue to get Viktor into his guest bed. He’s flopped down and Chris is pulling the covers over him when Viktor mumbles, the words slurring with his accent, “I love him so much that it hurts. Ri’ here.” His arm flops down on his chest, his eyes flutter closed, and Chris leaves him alone, only moving a trashcan next to the bed before he slips out of the room and goes to his own bed, head swimming. And it’s not just because of the alcohol.

888

Things don’t get better in the years that follow, but they don’t get worse, so Chris doesn’t say anything. He watches as Viktor wins and wins, always above him on the podium, but he sees the falseness in his smile, the stiffness in his movements on the ice that weren’t there before. He doesn’t know what he could say, so he doesn’t. He offers his ear, his shoulder, his flat, whatever Viktor needs when he needs it. He supports Viktor as much as he can and vows to give this Yuuri kid a kick in the ass if he ever sees him in person.

**Yurio (2007)**

Yuri Plisetsky remembers the first time he ever stepped onto the ice, four years old and wobbling slightly as his mother held onto his hands and led him around. He remembers the warmth of her behind him, the scraping sounds of the ice beneath them, the exhilaration of this new thing that he loved already. Even after his mother passes away and he feels like nothing will ever be okay again, he still has the ice.

And Grandpa, too, of course.

It’s Grandpa who takes him to skating practice and buys him new boots when he starts growing and ballet classes and who takes him to his first skating lesson when he’s seven and showing no signs of wanting to stop. The teacher is an old friend of his grandpa’s, and he tells Yuri that he also taught his mama how to skate. The first day, he kneels down in front of Yuri and puts his boot on his leg.

“This is the proper way to tie your skates,” Coach Feltsman says, tightening the laces. “You must tie them correctly or they could come loose, and they help keep your ankles straight.”

Yuri nods sagely, because that makes sense, watching carefully so that he can duplicate it on his other boot. Yakov stands when he’s done and tells Yuri to tie the other one, but someone skates to the boards just as Yuri finishes. He looks up to see none other than Viktor Nikiforov standing there, but he’s not smiling like Yuri usually sees him in pictures or on the TV. In fact, he looks sad.

“Yuri, get on the ice and start skating around the rink to warm up,” Coach Feltsman says. “The others will make sure to to hit you.”

Yuri, being the nosy child that he is, wants to stay and hear what’s going on, so he slowly walks towards the ice. He’s still in his skate guards and the boots he has on are new, so it’s not completely odd that he’s going slow; it really is awkward to walk in them. It also gives him a chance to hear what’s said. He feels Coach Feltsman’s eyes on him as he teeters to the entrance, tongue sticking out as he tries to stay balanced, and it’s not totally an act.

He hears them softly arguing, but can’t really make out the words until Coach Feltsman sighs and says “Viktor, is this about-”

“Just stop it, Yakov.” Viktor Nikiforov’s voice is angry now, sending a shiver down Yuri’s spine. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow.”

He skates away after that, leaving both Yuri and their coach staring after him. He’s never heard anyone sound so mad before, and most certainly not Viktor Nikiforov, who always smiles really pretty when he’s on the TV. Yuri chances a glance at Coach Feltsman, who looks really sad all of a sudden. He skates away before he gets caught, but he avoids Viktor Nikiforov for the rest of the week.

**(2009)**

Yuri has a bunch of new teachers now that he’s living in a different city, ones paid for by the government so that he can focus on winning glory for Mother Russia. He supposes he likes them well enough, but there’s one who comes to his dance class two years after he moves to St. Petersburg. They’re told he’s a student teacher and a _p_ _rinciple dansuer_ in the Mariinsky Ballet, and to Yuri, he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He’s of Asian decent, with black hair that flops in his face and glasses that hide his eyes, but when he dances, he becomes so much more. They’re told his name is Yuuri Katsuki, that he’s from Japan and moved to Russia to study under Madame Lilia Baranovskaya when he was young. He’s always super nice to everyone, but he seems to go out of his way to be extra nice to Yuri, who is one of the youngest in the class and most certainly the smallest. He never gets impatient when Yuri doesn’t get the move right the first, or even fifth, time and he always makes sure Yuri is doing okay.

And, really, Yuri can pinpoint the moment he _really_ likes Yuuri, and later will never admit that he’s his first crush.

It’s hard being so far away from the only home he’s ever had, and being so far from his grandpa, who has been his rock since Mama died. Even after two years of living in St. Petersburg, he still doesn’t have many friends his age, and certainly none that he really considers enough of a friend to ask Yakov if they can play together. After one particularly grueling skating lesson, followed by an equally grueling dance lesson that had ended with a couple of the older kids making fun of him, Yuri hides in the bathroom, locking the stall door behind him. He wraps his arms around his thin chest and tries to keep his breathing even, but he can hear the shuddering inhale and exhale, can feel it in his hands where they’re pressed to his ribs, and his eyes burn with anger and shame.

“Yuri?” a quiet voice asks, and he jumps, wiping at his face.

“I’m sorry, I was just leaving,” he mumbles, opening the door and seeing the other Yuuri standing in front of him, his face twisted in concern. He opens his arms and Yuri launches himself into them, burying his face into Yuuri’s chest. He’s too old for this, but Yuuri is always so nice and soft spoken with him, with _all_ of them, that Yuri takes a moment to revel in his comforting presence before he’ll be forced to act like a grown kid.

“Yuri, what’s wrong?” Yuuri asks him, stroking the back of his head soothingly, his body a solid warmth that blocks out the bad.

“I-” The words get caught in his throat, choking him. There’s silence for a few minutes before Yuuri starts talking.

“I moved to Russia when I was only just a little older than you, you know. I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t really know much about Russia or the language or the culture or anything. It was really scary for me.”

“How did you get over it?” Yuuri’s breath hitches curiously against Yuri’s cheek and he pulls away to look at Yuuri, who smiles down at him and pushes his sweaty bangs away from his face.

“I- I had a really good friend. It made it easier, because we were both learning English at the same time, so we helped each other with that, then we taught each other our native languages.” Yuuri looks away, his face drawn and sad, his eyes distant. “He meant everything to me, he was my best friend.”

“Was?”

“Yes. I… lost him, not so long ago.” Yuuri looks back down at him, a sad smile on his lips. “But my point is that you don’t have to feel alone, Yuri. Find a good friend, it helps ease the sadness in your heart.”

Yuri wrinkles his nose and pulls out of his embrace, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hands. Yuuri tuts at him and goes over to the sink, wetting the corner of the towel he has draped over his shoulders. He wrings it out and gestures for Yuri to come closer, wiping the dried tears off. “Now, I heard what those other students said, and I will be reporting them, but some of the others aren’t so bad. Find a special friend; it helps a lot.”

“I don’t want any of the other people as friends, they’re stupid,” Yuri says, scowling.

“Those are not beautiful words, Yuri.”

Yuri wrinkles his nose again, but then an idea comes to him. “Yuuri, will you be my special friend? I like you more than any of those lo- other people!”

That sad look is back in Yuuri’s eyes and Yuri hates himself for a moment before Yuuri gives him a bright, wide smile that does funny things to Yuri’s stomach. “I would love to be your friend, Yuri.”

“Then you should call me Yura,” he says firmly. “It’s silly that we have the same name.”

“You are very right, but mine is pronounced differently in my native language!” Yuuri leads him out of the bathroom, talking about the differences in the pronunciation as they gather their bags and leave. Yuri’s stomach feels funny the entire walk back to Yakov’s house, even after Yuuri parts ways with him. It’s not until much later that he realizes what the feeling is. He never wants to ruin what he has with Yuuri, so he tells himself right then that he’ll never tell Yuuri about his silly childhood crush.

As the months pass, he hangs out with Yuuri as often as he can, learning about Japan and places that Yuuri has visited before when the ballet company has toured. Yuuri tells him that he’s his most dedicated student, making Yuri glow with pride. When he’s not dancing or doing his school work, he’s skating, and one day he gets a great idea.

“Yuuri, will you go ice skating with me?” he asks after class.

Yuuri chokes on the swallow of water he just took and looks down at him. “What?”

“Ice skating! It’s really fun and I can show you my new routine!” Yuri exclaims excitedly. “I can ask my coach, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all!”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide and he stutters, “I- oh, uh, I can’t, sorry, I have to be careful so I don’t hurt myself before my next show.” And then he runs out of the room before Yuri can say anything. Yuuri just finished the Christmas shows, what does he have next so soon? He tries not to let it hurt his feelings, but this is the first time Yuuri has ever said no to him about doing something. He trudges home, his dance bag heavier than it’s ever felt before. He barely eats dinner, no matter how much Yakov nags at him about being a growing boy, and then heads to bed early.

The next day, Coach Yakov changes things up and pairs each of the novices with an older skater. Yuri is excited because he ends up being paired with Viktor Nikiforov and not with that weird girl, Mila.

“Hello, what’s your name again?” Viktor Nikiforov asks, smiling down at him.

“My name is Yuri Plisetsky! One day, I want to beat you on the ice,” Yuri tells him proudly.

Viktor Nikiforov laughs, but Yuri doesn’t think he’s laughing _at_ him. “If you work hard, maybe one day you can! Until then, why don’t we work on your routine? You’re competing in novices still, yes?”

“Yes, I won’t be able to skate in juniors for a few more years, but Coach Yakov thinks I have a lot of potential,” Yuri says.

“You must, if he took you on so young! Come now, show me what you’ve got so far.”

Viktor Nikiforov watches him go through the little routine that Yakov had created, but Yuri stumbles when he tries a jump. He huffs, frustrated with himself, but Viktor Nikiforov is there, holding out a helping hand. He walks Yuri through his mistake and tells him how he can fix it, then adds, “No matter what, always get right back up and keep going.”

Yuuri immediately comes to mind and Yuri smiles a little. “I have another teacher who says the same thing.”

“She sounds very wise,” Viktor Nikiforov says with a laugh.

“ _H_ _e_ is the greatest person in the world!” Yuri clarifies defensively, and Viktor Nikiforov stops laughing and nods.

“I’m sorry. Yes, he does sound like a great person. I hope you continue to learn with him.”

Yuri squints at him. “I should learn from you, too.”

Viktor Nikiforov blinks at him, looking startled. “What?”

“You’re the best skater, you can teach me, just like my other teacher is the greatest dancer. Then I will be unstoppable!”

Viktor Nikiforov laughs, shaking his head, and Yuri gets the feeling that this time, he is laughing at him. He frowns and wants to stomp his foot, but he thinks about what Yuuri would say.

 _That is not a beautiful tantrum, Yura_ or something, probably.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t teach you,” Viktor Nikiforov tells him, holding up his hand when Yuri opens his mouth, “but how about I help you and give you pointers instead?”

Yuri is sure that he’s being tricked somehow, but he’s not sure, so he nods and takes Viktor Nikiforov’s hand when he offers it, shaking firmly.

It takes a while, but eventually he gets used to calling Viktor Nikiforov just plain Viktor.

**(Late December 2012)**

Viktor has been in a foul mood since his birthday, so Yuri spends what time he would normally use practicing with him at the dance studio instead. Yuuri had been busy with his latest show and so Yuri hasn’t really talked to him in a few months. He’s still teaching classes, but not as many as before. Yuri doesn’t know how to tell someone that he’s worried, either, because the last few times he saw Yuuri, he had looked… almost sick.

He goes to the studio and is happy to see Yuuri there, still looking pale and drawn like he has for a few months, but he still smiles when he spots Yuri.

“Yuchan, I didn’t expect you to be here today!” At the age of 12, Yuri is too old for hugs, but he still steps into Yuuri’s embrace and gives him a tight squeeze very quickly before moving away.

“Eh, the guy I normally work with is in a bad mood and I didn’t want to listen to him,” Yuri grumbles. “Can you tell me about your show?”

Sometimes, at the most odd and random times, Yuri will say or do something that makes Yuuri’s eyes cloud over with sadness. He never knows what sets it off, there’s not really any discernible pattern, but it happens and Yuri hates it every single time.

This is one of those times.

“Ah, it was good, I got a lot of good reviews, everything was very… good,” Yuuri says, turning away from him.

Yuri huffs, because what the hell is going on with everyone lately, then begins warming up on the barre when Yuuri does. He doesn’t try to talk to him again, just makes adjustments when Yuuri tells him to, and by the end of the lesson, he’s pouring sweat; he can’t remember the last time he worked so hard. They towel off and Yuuri asks questions about his school work, then takes him out to dinner.

He watches Yuuri closely and notices that he doesn’t actually eat much, even as he prods Yuri into eating his own food. He gets Yuri talking about school and his skating, including the new routine he’s working on for when he’s finally able to move up to Junior level competitions after his birthday in a couple of months.

“I don’t like it very much, though,” Yuri complains as he pokes at his empty plate.

“Why not, Yura? Surely your coach picked the music he thought was best suited for you?” Yuuri’s plate is still mostly full, causing Yuri to scowl at him.

“Because he chose music from _The Nutcracker_! It’s stupid!”

Yuuri hums, frowning as he looks at him. “You know, I played the Nutcracker Prince in _The Nutcracker_ when I was about your age.” Yuri abruptly turns red. “What song is he having you skate to?”

“ _Danse de la Fée-Dragée_.”

“Ah, the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. That’s one of the hardest ones, you know, your coach must think you are very talented,” Yuuri muses.

“It’s about a fairy!”

“It’s about dancing, too. Have you ever seen the ballet?” Yuri shakes his head. “You’ve only heard the music, then. The ballet is very soft, gentle. The fairy moves quietly, and keeps all eyes on her just with her dance! It isn’t something that’s easily done on ice, but…” He give Yuri a long, hard look. “But I think, with practice, maybe you could do it.”

“You really think so?” Yuri is intrigued now, because can he really be soft and gentle on the ice?

“Here.” Yuuri pulls out his phone and, after playing with it for a moment, brings up a [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhXPTQ1XB3Y) on YouTube. Yuri watches the girl in the video, her gentle steps, the flowing movements of her arms, the way she holds herself. Yuuri is right, it _does_ look like it would be a challenge to translate it onto ice. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I see what you mean now, but I don’t know if I can do something like that.”

“Come back and see me tomorrow,” Yuuri says after a long, silent moment. “I’ll have something for you then.”

“But my coach already has my choreography-” Yuri shuts his mouth when Yuuri just raises an eyebrow at him.

“If you don’t want me to help…”

“NO, I do!” Yuuri nods in satisfaction and pays their tab. The cold January air is biting, even through his layers, but they start walking anyway. “What’s your new ballet, you haven’t told me yet.”

“Oh, I’m playing the part of Prince Désiré in The Sleeping Beauty!”

“You always play a prince,” Yuri laughs. Yuuri just sticks out his tongue.

“Get home, tomorrow I’ll show you how un-princely I can be.” Yuuri waves down a passing taxi and ushers him inside. “Goodnight, Yurochka.”

Yuri goes home with that warm feeling still curled in his belly.

888

Yakov doesn’t approve of juniors doing quads, Yuri finds out the first time he attempts to mimic Viktor and do a quad flip. He gets a dressing down from his coach, but Viktor is standing behind him with a funny smile on his face, so Yuri takes that as encouragement. _I just won’t practice anymore when Yakov is around_ , Yuri decides. Viktor usually watches him, so it can’t be all bad, right? Viktor is older, he knows jumps, he can point out bad things that Yuri can improve on. Even if he still refuses to actually teach Yuri anything, he’s always watching.

The routine he’s skating to for the last competition of his novice career is too easy, in his opinion. Yuuri has been helping him with his Fairy dance, but that’s mostly practice for next season. Still, he knows that he can land a quad, and since this routine is so easy, Yuri decides to throw one in at the last minute. He consistently lands all of his triples and his quad Salchow has had more landings than falls lately.

He ignores the sidelines where he can hear Yakov yelling as he lines up the jump and takes off across the rink-

He jumps-

Yes, he makes the full rotations!

His skate wobbles when he lands, but he lands, doesn’t fall, doesn’t even touchdown. _See that, Yakov!_ He finishes his routine to thunderous applause and exits the rink to go to the Kiss  & Cry. Yakov yells at him, like Yuri knew he would, but he doesn’t care, he landed a _quad_ in a _competition_! Laughter rings out and Yuri looks to see Viktor standing there, smiling and clapping.

“Go easy, don’t be so tough on him all of the time!”

“This has nothing to do with you, Viktor!” Yakov yells at him.

“I just want to help him, Yakov!” Viktor whines, winking at Yuri. He keeps up with the act and it takes Yuri a few minutes to realize that he’s distracting Yakov from him. He smiles into his water cup; Viktor really isn’t all that bad…

**(Early January 2014)**

“THEY’RE CALLING ME THE RUSSIAN FAIRY,” Yuri screams, running into the ballet studio.

“Yuchan! Inside voice!” Yuuri admonishes before telling his class to take a break.

“But Yuuri, they’re calling me the Russian fairy now!” he whines. “It’s all because of that stupid dance! No one is ever going to take me seriously now.”

“What do you know about fairies?” Yuuri asks suddenly after a long, considering silence.

“I don’t know, they’re silly girls with wings.”

“They’re _magical_ _flying beings_. They can be nice or mean, they can help or harm, they’re tricksters,” Yuuri clarifies. “Take this and use it. Trick people into thinking you’re a soft silly thing and then show them how strong and powerful you are.”

Yuri frowns, thinking about this. It does make sense, and after all, Viktor is always saying that the key to being a successful ice skater is always surprising the people. He wants to be successful and if both of his teachers, who are the best ever, say that this is the best way, then, “I will be the Russian Fairy and I will show them all why you should never underestimate a fairy,” Yuri tells him with determination.

Yuuri hugs him. “I know you will, Yuchan.”

**(2016)**

The next few years are a breeze. He still takes Yuuri’s ballet class, but he focuses more and more on skating. Viktor helps him whenever he can, but more often than not, he’s in his own world and nothing really drags him out of his brown study most days. Yuri dominates Juniors, doing as Yuuri had told him and proving that fairies aren’t just silly flying girls, they can be tough and magical, using tricks and, per a promise he made to Viktor, not a single quad, to the point that he realizes he has no real competition there any more.

“I want to move up to Senior level next season when I turn 15,” he tells Yakov. “I’m ready.”

Yakov looks at him for a long moment before sighing. “I think you are. But you need more help than ever if you are to take the gold from Viktor.”

Viktor, who just happens to be skating by at that moment, slides to a stop. “Who is taking gold from me?”

“I will! I’m making my senior debut next year and I’ll take your title from you,” Yuri says proudly.

Viktor laughs, winking at him. “If there’s anyone out there who can, I believe that it’s you. I’ll even choreograph your short program, if you want. Who are you going to call, Yakov?” he asks when he sees him pull out his phone.

“The only person I know who can whip this petulant boy into shape,” Yakov sighs.

Yuri watches Viktor’s face become pinched and he skates off without another word. “Who is it?” Yuri asks, watching Viktor make slow circles on the ice.

“Never you mind, you’ll find out soon enough.”

**Lilia (2016)**

To say that Lilia is surprised to hear from her ex-husband after nearly half a decade of silence is not exactly inaccurate. She finds that she’s actually pleasantly surprised by the call and is shocked at how much she missed hearing his gruff voice. It’s a far cry from want to stab him with his knife shoes every day back when there were still married.

Still, she listens to what he asks and agrees to meet this very promising skater. She doesn’t tell Yuuri, though she sees him regularly for lessons between his shows and his own classes that he teaches in a different studio. He’s still as beautiful and graceful as ever, but there’s something that’s caused a weight on his shoulder a few years ago. They’ve never been particularly close, even after so many years of a teacher/student relationship and living together until Yuuri was old enough, and well enough established, to move out on his own, so Lilia still doesn’t know what the cause is. Instead, she asks him to take over her class for her one day and heads to the familiar skating rink. If she really thinks about it, she can still picture little Yuuri there, learning to skate under Yakov’s careful tulage and Viktor’s carefree smile.

“Oh my god, look,” she hears as she walks down the tunnel into the rink. “It’s Lilia Baranovskaya, former ballerina of the Bolshi Ballet!” She ignores the whispering girls, walking straight up to Yakov.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule,” Yakov says. He looks old and tired, but Lilia is not here for small talk.

“Yuuri is covering my class for the afternoon, so I only have a short amount of time. Which one is he? If I don’t like what I see, I’m leaving.”

“Yuri!” Yakov yells, causing Lilia to start. “His name is also Yuri,” he clarifies. A young boy with blond hair and angry green eyes skates over to the exit, clipping on his skate guards and walking over to them.

“Who is this?” he asks rudely. So Lilia responds rudely by grabbing his face in both her hands and looking him over, including the indignity of checking his teeth.

“Good teeth, at least.” She places his hands on the rail next to them and draws a leg up until he’s in a vertical split. “Not very flexible, though.” The boy yelps, but Lilia ignores him. “We’ll start at square one with ballet.”

“Whatever you say,” Yakov sighs.

“I take ballet already!” the boy yells, pulling his leg from her grip and glaring at her.

“You don’t go as often as you used to,” Yakov butts in.

“My teacher isn’t there as often as he used to be! I don’t like the other teachers. Who the hell is this woman anyway?”

Lilia stares at him coolly; she’ll have to train him out of using such unattractive words, it sounds like. “The person choreographing your free program.” The boys’ mouth gapes open unattractively. “That’s right, and my expectations are high. I’ve seen your past programs and you could be better, but you slack off because you feel you have no real competition. That may have been true in Junior’s, but Senior’s will tear you up and spit you out if you continue to perform with the level of apathy that you currently have.”

The boy, Yuri, she supposes she should call him, looks angry, then determined. She cups his face, tilting it towards her. There’s something there that reminds her of Yuuri, the fierceness of his determination, perhaps, or the defiant stance he takes, just like young Yuuri when he failed at a move and demanded another try, right before performing it perfectly. “Yes, you will be more than a _principle_ ,” she muses. “I will turn you into a _prima ballerina_. If you want to beat Viktor, you must be willing to sell your soul.”

“Wow, she’s intense,” Lilia hears the little red headed girl next to Yakov murmur.

“I will do whatever it takes to win,” Yuri says confidently. “Please, show me what I need to do.”

Again, Lilia is reminded of Yuuri, but she pushes it down with a smirk. “I am Lilia Baranovskaya. I want you to go home and pack up your things. We have a great deal of work to do, so you’ll be moving into my house with me.”

“What?” both he and Yakov yelp.

“So will you, Yakov. We will need to work closely if we are to take this boy to victory.”

“Lilia!”

“Don’t get excited, old man, this doesn’t mean we’re getting back together,” Lilia says, rolling her eyes.

“Wait, what-”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I WAS AIMING FOR.”

Lilia turns, eyes flitting across the rink, but there’s not even the barest hint of silver on the ice as she leaves. It was a pity, really, she would have liked to say hello to Viktor.

888

It’s weird, having people living in the same house as her again. She hasn’t had a boarder since Yuuri and the difference is a shock for the first few days before she adjusts. Yakov is very careful not to piss her off, which is nice, and Yuri is actually a good student once she gets him down to the studio. He listens to what she says and rarely argues, and the way he moves when he dances is actually vaguely familiar.

“Who was your teacher before me?” she asks one day, a few months into working together.

“Katsuki, he’s a _principle_ _dansuer_ in the Mariinsky Ballet-”

Lilia starts and she looks back at her student. “Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Yes, he’s the best dancer ever,” Yuri proclaims defensively, as though Lilia was looking down on him.

“He should be, I trained him myself,” Lilia finds herself saying.

“I know, he told me.”

“Well, if he’s been your teacher, I’ll need to talk to him about this attitude problem you have, he should have stamped it out of you from the beginning.”

Yuri opens his mouth as though to defend himself, but snaps it shut and starts warming up. He really doesn’t have an attitude problem, but accusing someone of it tells you a lot about them based on their reaction.

 _Yes, he’ll be a good student,_ Lilia thinks as they go through the motions.

888

She invites Yuuri to lunch one day, partly to thank him for taking on some of her classes so she can focus on Yuri, partly to see how he’s actually doing. She’s not happy with what she sees; he’s too thin, even for a dancer, his eyes lined with dark circles. While his posture is immaculate, his shoulders seem heavy with an invisible burden.

“I seem to have taken on one of your old students,” she tells him.

“Oh?”

“Yes, Yuri Plisetsky.” She watches as Yuuri perks up and a soft smile comes to his face.

“I wondered why he wasn’t coming around anymore. He’s in good hands, though.” He looks like he wants to ask questions, but he won’t. Even after all these years, he still defers to her as a teacher and not a friend.

“Have you talked to Viktor lately,” she asks, and Yuuri jerks in his seat, eyes round.

“What?”

“I don’t repeat myself.”

“Uhm, no, sorry Madame Lilia, I haven’t spoken with him in… in a few years.” Yuuri looks away, staring outside the shop windows. “Things changed and we can’t go back to what we were before.”

“Of course you can’t, how many times have I told you to throw yourself away! Your past self is dead! People who can be ‘reborn’ as many times as necessary are the strong ones, and you, Yuuri Katsuki, used to be one of the strongest ones around.” She levels him with a Look, one she hasn’t needed to use on him in a long time, and glances down at his still full plate. He obediently takes a bite. “You should talk to him.”

“I-”

“Don’t argue with me or I’ll have you doing _grand jete_ across the ballet studio. You also need to take better care of yourself, Yuurochka, you’re much too thin. You’re no good to anyone if you collapse on stage.”

Yuuri smiles and takes another bite of his lunch. Lilia hopes he’ll listen, but he always was a stubborn child. A small smile touches her lips at the thought and she vows she’ll keep track of him better.

“Tell me about your new ballet.”

This time, Yuuri’s whole face lights up and he tells her about getting the part of Prince Siegfried in the newest production of _Swan Lake_.

888

Lilia grows rather fond of Yuri, though she’s never sure if it’s because Yuuri had been her favorite student and the name association, or if it’s because he’s actually a hard worker, dedicated to becoming the best. Actually, that also reminds her of Yuuri…

She stays at the ice rink when she’s not teaching, and Yuuri has taken over a few blocks of her classes, mostly the novices. She’s shocked to realize that she actually misses the rink, the cool air, the _shush_ -ing noise of blades on ice. She notices that Viktor avoids her when he can, though he’s still always polite when he can’t. Yuri grows into his role and Lilia is pretty sure that he will end up surpassing Viktor, if not this year, then soon.

It’s just before the international competitions begin that she gets a call that she hopes she never gets again. She stands at the edge of the rink, watching Yuri and Viktor skating across the ice as they work on jumps together. _Viktor has come a long way with teaching since Yuuri,_ she muses as her phone buzzes in her pocket. The number is unfamiliar, but she answers anyway.

“Lilia Baranovskaya.”

“Yes, this Konstain from the Aleksandrovskaya Hospital. I’m calling about Yuuri Katsuki, you’re down as his emergency contact.”

Lilia’s heart skips and she steps away. “Is he okay?”

“I can’t say any details over the phone, but he’s awake now. Can you come down?”

“I’ll be there soon.” She hangs up the phone and starts walking away.

“Lilia, is everything okay?” Yakov calls after her.

“Yuuri has hurt himself, I must go to him.”

“What-”

She turns to see both Yuri and Viktor are staring at her. “Yuuri had an accident, I’m going to the hospital to check on him. I will see you at home, Yuri, Yakov,” she adds before turning around again.

“Wait, _my_ Yuuri? I’m coming with you!” Viktor demands.

“You know Yuuri?” Yuri asks.

“ _You_ know Yuuri?” both Viktor and Yakov ask in return.

“I’m not waiting for anyone, if you want to come, you come now,” Lilia tells them, and there’s a sudden scramble for shoes as she walks away. They all pile into Lilia’s car and she takes off, listening to the boys in the back.

“He was my ballet teacher before Lilia,” Yuri says. “How do you know him?”

“He was my best friend for years! We lived together at Yakov’s growing up.”

“ _You’re_ his special friend? The way he talked about you, I thought you died or something.”

Lilia ignores them, and some speed limits, and gets them to the hospital in record time. Information points them to the right area and Lilia goes back alone, the only one with permission to do so. Yuuri is pale on the bed, his breathing slow and eyes closed, though they flutter open when she steps into the room. Tears begin falling from his cheeks and he turns his face away.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I messed up, I didn’t eat enough, they tell me I collapsed on stage and hit my head.” His thin shoulders shake as he turns fully on his side and begins crying silently. Lilia has never really been the maternal type, but she finds herself sitting on his bed without a second thought, urging him into her arms. She rocks gently, making soothing sounds and letting him cry on her coat without caring that it might mess it up. He cries and cries until the tears stop, then accepts a tissue that Lilia holds out to him.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Tears are good, they relieve the pain.” Lilia looks at him as he stares at his hands in misery. “You know what else is good for pain? Talking.” Yuuri looks up at her, surprised. “Talk, Katsuki Yuuri, and let someone help your pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally had a note on my doc that said "add bit about the russian fairy 'cause I'm dying" the whole time I wrote the part between the Yu(u)ri's, and just kept giggling over the whole thing.
> 
> Some dialogue credited to the anime. The video in the link was posted in 2015, after this scene, but it was one of the first ones I watched when looking for Yuri's program and I really liked it, so sh.
> 
> If you're wondering why some stuff is different, please keep in mind that this is an AU where Viktor and Yuri grow up with Yuuri in their life and I firmly believe he's a positive influence on the both of them.
> 
> As always, major shout out to idc_chan for letting me yell at her, even though she's got a busy as hell schedule, and to sedatedartist for letting me make her cry!
> 
> Finally, friendly reminder that constructive criticism is good, not-constructive criticism makes smol author sad.


	9. The End. And The Beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m doing this on my phone, so if there are any errors, I’ll fix them later.

Viktor’s leg jiggles up and down nervously as he looks to where Lilia left. The waiting room of the emergency department isn’t particularly crowded, but Viktor is still full of anxiety and can’t stop himself from moving around, eventually standing and purchasing a drink from a vending machine. He sits back next to Yuri and fiddles with the bottle, but doesn’t actually drink anything.

“Why did you think I was dead?” he asks Yuri, apropo of nothing.

“What?”

“In the car, you said you thought Yuuri’s best friend was dead. I’m his best friend and I’m not dead.”

Yuri blinks at him, obviously trying to catch up on the conversation. “Uhm, well, the way he talked about losing his best friend, I just sort of thought the friend was dead.”

That hurts Viktor more than he thought something like that could. As a celebrity, he’s had a couple of hoaxes about his supposed death, but this is something completely different. Yuuri treated their separation like losing someone to the grave, not simply drifting apart? But… he had left, hadn’t he? He had walked out of Viktor’s apartment while Viktor was asleep and never spoke to him again…

They lapse into silence, but Viktor can see Yakov shooting him looks. The noise in the hospital seems both muted and loud against Viktor’s racing thoughts.

He wonders what’s taking so long.

He wonders if Yuuri is okay.

He wonders why Lilia hasn’t come back yet.

He gets up and walks to the vending machines again, staring blankly for several moments before returning to his seat without buying anything.

“Stop twitching, you’re driving me crazy,” Yuri snaps after about three hours.

Viktor opens his mouth to tell him… something, he doesn’t know what, when Lilia finally returns. Her eyes scan the waiting room before falling on Viktor, who she beckons forward. He nearly trips over his feet to get over to her.

“Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine, but they’re keeping him overnight due to a concussion,” she informs him. “He’s in a room now and asking for you.”

Viktor blinks at her in surprise. “He asked for me? Specifically?”

“Yes, you.” She gives him directions to Yuuri’s room and gathers up the other two still waiting a few feet behind him. Viktor makes his way through the hospital and up to where the room is, the door cracked open and the room silent when he knocks softly. There’s no answer, so he pushes it open and peers in.

Yuuri is on the bed with a few things hooked up to him. His eyes are closed and, if Viktor strains, he can see the slight rise and fall of his chest under the hospital gown. He steps in and closes the door behind him as quietly as possible. His shoes make soft noises on the floor as he walks over to the bed, but Yuuri doesn’t stir. There’s a chair pulled up next to the bed where Viktor assumes Lilia was sitting; he sits down in it and just looks at Yuuri.

His face is gaunt and sunken, and it looks grey in the dim lights of the hospital room. His lips are dry and cracked and there are dark smudges under his eyes. He looks half dead, and nothing like the smiling, vibrant kid of Viktor’s memories. He doesn’t even look as good as he did a few years ago, when Viktor last saw him, which is saying something because he looked too thin even then. But he’s breathing and he’s _here_ and Viktor is just so happy that he’s okay.

He pulls the talisman Yuuri had given him so many years ago out of his pocket and fiddles with it, turning the well-worn fabric over and over. He’d worn in under every single costume during every skate since he had gotten it, and the age shows, but he couldn’t bear to get rid of it. Now, he looks at the faded design for a long moment before he reaches over and presses it into Yuuri’s slack hand, which curls slightly around it. Viktor looks up at Yuuri’s face, but it’s still slack and peaceful in sleep.

Viktor leans back in the chair, content to play on his phone until Yuuri wakes up.

888

Viktor doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he’s awoken suddenly by soft voices speaking near him. His eyes feel like they’re glued together as he sits up, his body sore from sleeping in a chair, and when he rubs them clear, he sees Yuuri talking to a nurse. They both glance at him, and Yuuri offers him a small smile, but they don’t stop and it takes Viktor’s brain a minute to realize that they’re testing him because of the concussion.

After the nurse (or is it a doctor?) finishes and leaves, Yuuri turns to look at him. His eyes don’t sparkle anymore.

“Hi, Vicchan,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. Viktor immediately looks for a water cup and hands it to Yuuri, how looks at him curiously.

“You- uh, your voice, it sounds like it hurts to talk,” Viktor stutters. Now there’s warmth in Yuuri’s smile as he takes a drink.

“It doesn’t, but thank you.”

“Hi, Yuuri.”

Yuuri giggles. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” Viktor wants to know but he’s terrified of the answer.

Yuuri frowns, playing with the cup in his hands. “I’ll probably be out tomorrow, they said, it wasn’t too severe of a fall, but I’m badly dehydrated and… and malnourished.”

Viktor frowns at that, but it’s not surprising. “Well. You should get some rest.”

“I will, but, Vitya?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay with me? I-” Yuuri cuts himself off and looks down at his hands, at the talismen that Viktor had placed there. “Lilia told me that I should talk about- about, uhm, everything, I guess. She said talking helps ease, uhm, the pain, and I’ve caused you a lot of pain over the years and I… I want to talk to you about everything.”

He starts crying and Viktor feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest. His legs feel rubbery, but he hauls himself out of the chair and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling Yuuri to him and making soothing sounds as he holds him. Yuuri’s hands grasp weakly at the back of his shirt, but he doesn’t pull away and he doesn’t stop crying for several minutes.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are red and drooping with exhaustion, so Viktor simply kisses his forehead and says, “Go back to sleep, talking can wait until you’re feeling better.”

Yuuri frowns, but he doesn’t argue, his eyes fluttering shut the moment his head is back on his pillow. Viktor settles back into the chair once he’s sure that Yuuri is asleep and makes himself comfortable.

He’s not going anywhere.

888

The night is long, with a nurse or doctor coming in every few hours to wake Yuuri up and check on him. One of them eventually shows Viktor how to fold a bed out from the couch along the wall and gives him a blanket and some pillows. The bed is too short for his long frame, but he doesn’t care. He wakes up every time someone comes it, watches them go over everything with Yuuri, doesn’t fall asleep until after Yuuri does. They replace his IV bags three times and, when they wake up for the day, Viktor makes sure that he eats a reasonable amount of food for both breakfast and lunch. Yuuri is released mid afternoon and Viktor calls for a taxi to pick them up.

“Do you want to go to your place?” Viktor asks. “We can go to mine, if you want? Or if want to be alone, I can drop you off somewhere,” he says quickly when Yuuri gives him a weird look. “I just don’t think you should be alone and you said you wanted to talk so-”

“Vitya-”

“I just-”

_“Vitya.”_

Viktor shuts up. Yuuri is smiling at him in that soft way that he always had that makes Viktor’s insides to to goo. “Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying with you, but I need to check on Vicchan,” Yuuri tells him. “Is that okay?”

Like Viktor has ever told Yuuri no.

They get loaded into the taxi, Yuuri clutching his discharge papers and looking grungy in his dirty rehearsal clothes from the day before. Viktor starts to give the driver Yuuri’s address, but Yuuri stops him and gives him a different one.

“I… moved. About, uhm, four years ago.”

Well. That explains some things, at least. The driver takes them to Yuuri’s new place and promises to wait and, after Viktor slips him some extra rubles, agrees to take Vicchan with them as well. Yuuri doesn’t take long to gather up a bag of clothes and put Vicchan in his carrier, and then Viktor gives the driver _his_ address and they’re off. The backseat is quiet, save for Vicchan greeting Viktor happily through the bars. Viktor coos back at him, telling him that Makka will be so happy to see him and, sure enough, as soon as Yuuri lets him out, the two greet each other happily.

“I have a guest bedroom right through here,” Viktor tells Yuuri, opening the door and putting his bag on the bed. “Do you want a quick tour?”

Yuuri nods, his eyes roaming restlessly around the room before he follows Viktor back to the main part. It’s not the biggest apartment, because it doesn’t need to be when it’s only you and a dog, but he shows him the living room, the kitchen/dining room combo, the guest bathroom, and then-

“Here’s my room.”

Yuuri smiles awkwardly, “I remember.”

Viktor clears his throat and looks away at that. “Yuuri-”

“Vitya, I-”

They both stop and glance at each other, awkward. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Viktor says, waving his hands as though he could clear the air that way. “Tonight, let’s just get you fed and rested some more. You can take a shower and I’ll order some food for us.”

Yuuri nods and gathers some clothes before ducking into the guest bathroom. Viktor shifts through a few menus he has thrown in a drawer before settling on a deli down the road. They’ll have plenty of hardy foods to help fatten Yuuri up, and he orders extra just in case. Normally he would fix his own food, but he’s tired after the stress of the day before and not having much sleep that night. Yuuri comes out before the food arrives, and Viktor sees him in proper light for the first time in too long.

His shirt hangs off his shoulders and his pants look like they’ve been tightened to the max. His cheek- and collar- bones protrude sickly; the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than before. Viktor hands him a cup full of water and watches him drink the whole thing, and another when Viktor refills it. He looks a little better after it, but his lips are still cracked. Viktor is about to go get his lip balm when there’s a buzzing at the door, so he changes his path and rings the deli driver up, giving her a good tip and setting all the food down on the counter in the kitchen.

“Uhm, I’m afraid I don’t really have a place to eat,” he says, looking at the table, which is covered in papers and discs and gear. “I normally just sit in the living room.”

Yuuri laughs lightly, his towel draped around his neck as he scrubs at the side of his head. He frowns at the towel when it comes away with several strands of hair, but neither of them comment on it. Instead Yuuri ducks back into the bathroom, Viktor assumes to put the towel up, and then returns to help him pull containers out of the bags.

“This is a lot of food,” Yuuri says.

“I figured we could have it for dinner and save any that’s left for lunch tomorrow. I’ll cook us breakfast tomorrow,” Viktor promises quickly, “I’m just really tired.”

Yuuri nods again, the frown back on his face, but again, neither of them say anything about it. They load up their plates and settle on Viktor’s enormously plush couch. Yuuri ribs him gently about it after Viktor admits to falling asleep on it several times while watching movies or coming home drunk. He puts on a trashy soap opera to give them background noise and Yuuri seems to be interested in it, or at least he doesn’t say anything. Viktor has to give him a nudge a few times when Yuuri stops eating for a long time, seemingly engrossed in the show, and the first time it happens, Yuuri startles slightly and wrinkles his nose at Viktor. It’s so cute that he wants to die…

Once they’ve eaten and the dogs have been fed, Viktor volunteers to walk them both before the turn in for the night. Yuuri offers to come with him, but he waves it off, telling him that he needs to rest more. Yuuri rolls his eyes; Viktor sticks out his tongue, earning a smile, but no arguments as he attaches both dogs to their leads. It’s a quick walk, because Viktor really is tired, and he promises them a nice, long walk the next day after he’s gotten at least eight hours of sleep. The dogs don’t seem to mind, doing their business and playing with each other on the walk back.

Yuuri is nowhere to be found when Viktor returns, so he hangs up the leads and begins his nightly routine. Door locked, triple checked, lights out, electronics off, windows shut. A quick shower and an abbreviated version of his skincare routine before he collapses face first into the bed. Between one breath and another, he’s out.

And then he’s awake, suddenly, and the bright light of the sun is streaming through his windows. He takes a deep breath, eyes heavy, trying to make sense of everything. Something had woken him up…

“Vitya? I made coffee,” he hears and sits up to see Yuuri standing at the door. He’s relieved to see that Yuuri hadn’t left in the middle of the night again, but his brain takes another minute to boot up and notice a cup in each of Yuuri’s hands. He sits up, rubbing his burning eyes, and pats the bed next to him. Both Vicchan and Makka jump up, covering him in morning kisses, and he does his best to pet them both before Yuuri hands him a cup.

“Good morning,” Viktor says, clearing his throat when it comes out crackly.

Yuuri gives him a soft smile. “Good morning. I… I’m ready to talk now, whenever you wake up all the way. I thought maybe we could just hang out for a little while?”

Viktor nods in agreement, then says, “How about we take a walk? There’s a bakery down the road that has really good breakfast, and the dogs probably need to go.”

“No, I took them out while the coffee was brewing,” Yuuri is quick to assure him. “But breakfast sounds really good.”

They sit there smiling at each other for a moment before Viktor takes a sip of his coffee, enjoying the warmth. He sits back against the headboard and, after a moment of consideration, lifts his arm up. Yuuri takes the hint and presses against his side, sipping at his own cup of what smells like tea. It’s quiet and cozy and Viktor couldn’t ask for a better start to his day.

He wonders if this is the beginning or the end.

The walk to the bakery after Viktor finishes his coffee and brushes his teeth is quiet, but it’s not awkward or even particularly heavy feeling; it feels like… like a fresh start, a new beginning… it feels like hope. They sit on a bench in a park just down the road and eat, Viktor nudging Yuuri when he needs to, until they’re both dusting sugar off their hands and the dogs are ready to go home after running wild. They both go right to the water bowl the minute Viktor opens the door while he and Yuuri settle on the couch next to each other.

“Are you- Do you want to go first?” Viktor tries.

“I don’t know where to start,” Yuuri says, frowning.

“I think I do, if that’s okay?” Yuuri nods and Viktor takes a deep breath. “So, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you, though it took a little time to realize it.” He watches Yuuri’s eyes grow wide at that. “And I loved you so much, both as a friend and as more, that I didn’t want to lose that and I didn’t think that you felt the same way, because you’d never really made any kind of, you know, indication that you _did_ like me the same way, other than that first kiss and even then you said it was because you were curious and, I don’t know, I just…” Viktor trails off because this is harder than he thought it was going to be.

“I did love you, you know,” Yuuri whispers. “I was so worried that you didn’t love me back and I didn’t want to be that stupid lovesick kid that just hung around you all the time.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Viktor pulls him in for a hug. “Even if I didn’t love you like I do, I would still want you around. You’re still my best friend.” He feels Yuuri’s fingers dig into his back as he holds Viktor to him. “You remember how I fell, right after that kiss happened?”

Yuuri pulls away, frowning. “When you injured your foot on the bench?”

“Yeah. Well…” Viktor doesn’t know how much he should admit to, but he wants to put everything out there, laid out fresh. “I was- when we were dancing, I remembered kissing you and, ah, after, I…”

He avoids Yuuri’s gaze as his ears turn red; Yuuri suddenly giggles. “Is _that_ why you ran out of the room so quickly that night? I thought I was just a bad kisser and you didn’t want to tell me!” Yuuri laughs.

Viktor laughs too, because it’s funny _now,_ and nudges Yuuri with his shoulder. “No, I… yeah. But so I fell and you were so upset, remember? You kept thinking it was your fault, which was silly. And then the night I came home, you stayed downstairs with me. I held you as you slept and that’s, that’s when I realized I was in love with you. It was terrifying and wonderful and I was so scared that you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Oh, Vitya…”

“And then, before we went to Japan, I saw you talking to some boy at the studio and you just seemed so comfortable around him. Back then, you weren’t comfortable around _anyone_ most of the time, but he brushed your hair back and I just… saw red.” Viktor can still vividly remember wishing death upon anyone who touched Yuuri so familiarly. “I was so jealous, I wanted to be the one talking to you and brushing your hair away from your face and having you look up at me like that.”

“I… don’t remember who you’re talking about,” Yuuri admits. “I don’t even remembering it happening. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault! I never told you how I felt and, really, it’s your body, you can do what you want. So I guess when we were in Japan together, it all built up and then I kissed you and when you didn’t kiss me back, I thought I had ruined everything.”

“You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Well, the next day-”

Yuuri flinches and looks away. “I think it was my fault. I thought you- You said it was a silly mistake, remember?”

“Only because you seemed so unsure about everything. You said you didn’t know what to think about the kiss and I thought that meant that you didn’t want to, I don’t know, keep kissing me or something, so I tried to play it off as nothing. That was probably my mistake, not trying to talk through everything with you.”

“No, I should have told you-”

“Please, no, I- I need to finish.” Viktor takes a deep breath. “Then, after that, everything was so bad between us and I didn’t know how to make it better, because we weren’t even _talking_ at that point and then- And then, one day, I went to the studio and I saw you and you were kissing some _boy_ and I-”

“Oh no, Vitya-”

“I _hated_ him, and I thought that, that that meant that you _didn’t_ love me, you didn’t want to _be_ with me, because why else would you be kissing someone else?”

“Vitya, please, let me explain,” Yuuri pleads, tugging at Viktor’s hands where they’re curled into fists in his lap. “It wasn’t like that at all!”

Viktor relaxes his hands, unaware of when they first clenched, and takes another deep breath. “Yes, explain, that… that’s what we should have done in the first place,” he says with a dull laugh.

“That boy, I kissed him because I was so confused about everything. About you and the kiss and everything I was feeling. It- my head was all messed up from everything and I knew I loved you, but what if you didn’t love me back? I needed to, I don’t know, I guess I was comparing him to you? Because I liked him, but I didn’t like him like I liked you, so I wondered if, maybe if I kissed him, I could see if I could get that feeling back. And then I found out you moved out and I didn’t know what to say because things were so awkward with us at that point.”

“I couldn’t be around you anymore, it hurt just living in the same house after that. Knowing, or at least _thinking,_ that you didn’t me back, I had to go. I tried to put up as many walls between us as I could.”

“That’s why you didn’t text me anymore?”

He nods. “I thought, maybe distance is what we need and Yuuri can find love out there without me to make everything awkward.”

“Oh, Vicchan…”

Viktor takes a slow, deep breath. “So I left you alone and everything was okay-”

“You were in so much pain, I could tell,” Yuuri squeezes his hand, grounding Viktor.

“Then, I saw all of these posters of you for that, that ballet, what was it, _The Sleeping Beauty,_ I think? And I needed to see you, to know that you had moved on, I guess? But then you called me backstage and-”

“And we came back here and I left right after,” Yuuri is quick to summarize, his ears burning red, and Viktor huffs out a small laugh.

“Yeah. And my heart broke all over again, because I _still_ wasn’t enough for you, or,” he adds loudly before Yuuri can interrupt, “at least that’s what I thought. But now that you’re here, you can tell me the real reason.”

“I thought that you didn’t want me. I probably built it up in my head-”

“-you did-”

“- _but_ I thought you didn’t want me, because you had said the kiss was a mistake, remember? And then you left and it seemed like it was because of me, but for different reasons than it actually was. So I thought I had used you, because I loved you so much, and you didn’t love me back. I was so mad at myself for it that I just left so I wouldn’t have to face you and all your, I don’t know, pity. I left because I was… ashamed of it.”

Viktor just watches Yuuri’s face thoughtfully. Even now, knowing that Viktor loves him, he looks so sad and it breaks Viktor’s heart all over again. He pulls Yuuri into his arms and they just hold each other for several long, silent minutes.

“I guess we’re both idiots, huh,” Viktor says, drawing a wet chuckle from Yuuri. He moves away long enough to grab a tissue from the box his keeps on his end table and pass it over before taking Yuuri into his arms again.

“I guess we are.”

The quiet is warm and comfortable in a way it hasn’t been for them in years.

“God, when I think of how many years we could have had together!” Yuuri laughs again, rolling his eyes at Viktor.

“Well, we’re here now.”

“We are. I’m never letting you go, Katsuki Yuuri.”

“I don’t think I’ll mind at all.”

Viktor kisses his temple and holds him close.”

“I can’t believe it was this simple.”

“What?”

“Just… everything. Talking. Telling our side to each other.”

“Things tend to go better when people talk,” Viktor jokes.

Yuuri looks thoughtful. “You’re right. Let’s promise to talk from now on, okay?”

Well, Viktor never could tell Yuuri no.

**Epilogue 2020**

Yuuri can’t believe today is his wedding day. He can’t believe he’s marrying his soulmate, he can’t believe this is all real. Mari squeezes his hand after fixing his hair one last time.

They’re marrying at the onsen, under the stars, with the sounds of _Tanabata_ floating through the gardens. Viktor thought it was somewhat fitting and Yuuri couldn’t disagree, especially since it was his favorite festival anyway. He doesn’t think he could be happier than he is at this very moment, as Yuri tucks a flower in his hair.

“Thank you for being here with me,” he tells his student.

“I’m just glad you two are finally getting married, maybe now you’ll stop being so gross at the rink,” Yuri grumbles, but Yuuri knows he doesn’t mean it, especially when he pulls Yuuri into a hug right after. Phichit sticks his head in the door and his face breaks out in a huge grin.

“You look so amazing.” Yuuri blushes, waving it off, but Phichit comes over and takes his hands in his own. “No, it’s your wedding day, you’re not allowed to do that.” He hugs Yuuri tightly and again Yuuri finds himself wanting to pinch himself because _he can’t believe this is really happening._ 12 year old Yuuri wouldn’t have believed it and 19 year old Yuuri _definitely_ wouldn’t have believed it.

They keep the ceremony short, just long enough to appease their families and affirm their love for each other to the world. The real fun is the festival-like reception they throw, complete with bamboo and _tanzaku_ and lanterns strung around the garden. It’s beautiful and simple and Yuuri doesn’t think a more beautiful wedding has ever happened before. Of course, he’s a little biased, but he doesn’t care.

After, he and Viktor leave for a hotel the next town over. The party continues behind them, but they wanted to spend their first night married alone, without the thin walls of the onsen around them. Plus, Viktor rationed, that meant they wouldn’t be obligated to stay for long. Yuuri has laughed when Viktor suggested it, but he couldn’t help but agree.

The car Viktor hired to take them to their next spot pulls away with little aplomb and the grooms settle in the back. Yuuri puts his head on Viktor’s shoulder with a yawn and watches Viktor’s long fingers play with the new gold band on his finger. He turns his palm up and Viktor’s fingers easily twine with his, but Yuuri can still feel the press on his ring.

“I love you, husband,” he whispers.

“And I love you, love of my life.”

Yuuri smiles and his eyes flutter closed as the smooth purr of the car lulls him to sleep. He awoken suddenly when it stops and he blinks when he realizes they’re not at the hotel, but instead parked outside of a house.

“Vitya, where are we?” he grumbles, but Viktor just pulls him out of the car with a soft smile. He opens the door with a key and Yuuri blinks when soft light floods the porch. “What’s going on?”

Viktor looks nervous as he produces a set of papers. “You can say no, it’s not official yet because I wanted us to be married before we signed anything, but, ah, I bought us a house. Here, in Hasetsu.” When Yuuri just stands there, gobsmacked, Viktor seems to mistake it for anything but shock, rushing to add, “We don’t have to, it was only a thought, I was going to move my coaching here and I know you have mentioned retiring sometime soon and opening your own school and Minako, she said that you could take over her studio, and the revenue stream would help Hasetsu and maybe tourism would pick up-“

Yuuri can’t stand any more of the wonderful words falling from his husband’s ( _husband!_ ) mouth. He throws his arms around Viktor’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss, breath hot, tongues touching, bodies pressed fully together.

“I take it you like the idea,” Viktor jokes breathlessly when they part.

“I can’t believe you did this all for me, for _us,_ ” Yuuri says, voice still choked with tears. He lets out a squeal when Viktor sweeps him off his feet and carries him over the threshold of apparently their new house. He keeps his arms wrapped around Viktor’s neck as the door slams shut behind them and there’s a soft _thump_ as the papers in Viktor’s are unceremoniously dropped.

“The grand tour will have to wait until morning,” Viktor says as he continues carrying Yuuri to what he assumes is the bedroom. “I hope you don’t mind, my love.”

Yuuri laughs and then lets out a shriek when he’s tossed gently onto the bed. “Vitya!”

“Yuuchan,” Viktor teases as he crawls in next to him, tossing his tie into the floor. He leans in for a kiss, but this time is interrupted by another yawn, this time his own. He looks so surprised that Yuuri giggles around his own yawn.

“As much as I would love for us to ravage each other, I think maybe we should nap first,” Yuuri says. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Nervous?”

“Excited.”

Viktor smiles and yawns again, long enough that his eyes are watering afterwards. “I think you’re right, as always, my love. Nap, then ravaging.”

They discard most of their clothes, leaving them in haphazard piles on the floor and then curl around each other, hearts full and fingers intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me. It took almost a year, but this fic is done and I couldn’t have done it without all of your comments and kudos. I wish I could thank all of you personally, but I’ll settle for those who leave such wonderful and encouraging comments on the chapters. You’re all so wonderful and I’m so grateful for your support.


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